


Constant Protection

by Suzann89x



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 45,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzann89x/pseuds/Suzann89x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bad news?  Voldemort's back.  Worse news?  Hermione is a main target.  The worst news?  She has to stay with Professor Snape so she can be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dormitory No More

“Albus!” Snape snarled as he threw open the door to Dumbledore’s office, “What is the meaning of this? You’ve lost your mind!” The Potions teacher thrust a piece of parchment toward the Headmaster, not caring that it was crumpled from his grip, which had tightly clenched around the letter.

 

As Dumbledore remained silent, making no attempt to take the paper, and merely raised his eyebrows, peering over his glasses at him, Snape growled and straightened the message, reading from it, “ _Severus, After much discussion and debate with Minerva, and owing to the information of which you informed me last month, we have concluded that, for her own safety, Hermione Granger will reside, rather than in Gryffindor Tower, in the dungeons, so that you may provide her with the protection she needs to remain unharmed from the Death Eater’s cruelty of which you spoke._ ” Snape lifted his black eyes from the letter to Dumbledore, “You cannot possibly be sincere in this absurd idea!”

 

“My, my, Severus, I suggest you reign in your anger and consider.”

 

Snape scowled and fell into a chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

 

“According to you, yourself, Miss Granger is quite certainly an intended victim of the Death Eaters, and requires the utmost protection. I do wonder, however, why it is that you saw fit to emphasize her need for security, yet made no mention of that of Harry Potter.”

 

His gaze on the palms of his pale hands, Snape spoke quietly, “There are worse things than death.”

 

“I am well aware of that,” Dumbledore replied.

 

“If Miss Granger were to be killed, she would be able to call herself lucky,” Snape frowned, “I’ve seen what these men are capable of, Albus, and, should she be captured, she should pray for death.”

 

Dumbledore absentmindedly ran his hand over Fawkes’s feathers, “Surely the prospect of suffering the _Cruciatus Curse_ is preferable to being murdered.”

 

His eyes snapped up to the headmaster and Snape’s face was filled with anger and outright disgust, “Have you forgotten what torments exist outside of magic? Have you forgotten what happened to your sister?”

 

Seeming startled and offended by the thought that he didn’t recall Arianna’s tragedy, Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief, “Of course I haven’t.”

 

“Yes, Miss Granger is a bit older than she was, but the damage would be the same, Albus. I’ve been forced to bear witness to their… _entertainment_ , and I can say with certainty that they are beyond brutal; these men are fierce in routine physical encounters, but they are merciless when it comes to Muggle-Borns and they will defile her in any way possible before passing her to the next man to do the same. Three boys attacked your sister; four times as many will abuse Miss Granger. It is a fate I would wish on no one.”

 

Dumbledore looked thoughtful, “Is Harry Potter in danger of this?”

 

Snape tightened his mouth, “No. They reserve that particular torment for females; if any Death Eater would apply it to boys, I highly doubt they would express that preference.”

 

“Ah,” the headmaster nodded, “The need to be accepted is one we all have, yet so many aren’t afforded that luxury.”

 

The Potions teacher became very uncomfortable, “I apologize, Albus; I spoke without considering my words.” Snape looked slightly sheepish, as he knew his sentence had the potential to be taken with offense, considering Dumbledore’s persuasions.

 

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively, “Nonsense. Shall we get back to the matter at hand?”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Snape gave a curt nod.

 

“I will not argue this with you, Severus; Miss Granger needs protecting, and you are, undoubtedly, the best one to provide it. She must be safeguarded twenty-four hours a day and be moved out of Gryffindor Tower - Sirius Black proved to us just how easy it is to infiltrate. You have no choice.”

 

 

 

 

                                        —————————————

 

 

Hermione lifted her hand to knock on Dumbledore’s office door, but it was violently ripped open before her knuckles had connected with the wood, and she was faced with the infuriated glare of Snape. At Dumbledore’s instruction, she sat. Hermione fidgeted, uncomfortable and anxious, in the straight-backed wooden chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, "Sir, please, could you go ahead and tell me what this is about?"

 

“Yes, Albus,” Snape drawled acidly, leaning his shoulder against the wall, “ _Do_ tell Miss Granger of your _brilliant_ decision.”

 

The headmaster nodded once, then flicked his wand, causing a chair identical to the one Hermione occupied to appear next to the student’s, “Please, sit.”

 

After narrowing his eyes at the old man, Snape obeyed.

 

“I’ve called you here, Miss Granger, so as to give you information Professor Snape relayed to me, and to discuss the arrangement for this year,” Dumbledore spoke slowly, “Professor Snape has reason to believe that you are in grave danger this year, and has advised that you receive constant protection.  I have, therefore, determined that the best course of action is for you to reside, no longer in Gryffindor Tower, but rather under the watchful, ever-vigilant eye of Professor Snape.  You shall stay in the dungeons with him, so that he might guard against any attacks."

 

"With _Snape?_ " Hermione asked in disbelief.

 

Giving a bitter, ironic smirk, Snape spoke, "I don't see how it would give any more security than her having to call for Minerva."

 

Dumbledore sighed, "You misunderstand me, Severus; I suppose I should have clarified - Miss Granger will be staying in your chambers, not merely in the dungeons."

 

"I beg your pardon? You failed to mention _that_ to me."

 

"What?" Hermione was dumbfounded.

 

Shaking his head solemnly, the headmaster spoke, "I'm afraid there is no other option."

 

"You could bring in an Order member, like I suggested," Snape hissed to himself.

 

"You suggested that Miss Granger be under constant protection of a member of the Order.  It's very convenient that there was already an Order member on campus: you."

 

"You cannot possibly be serious," Snape growled.

 

"As... _unorthodox_ as it is, Severus, it is the only way."

 

Flames erupted in the fireplace, cutting off Snape's second attempt to protest, and the Minister of Magic's voice came from the fire, "Albus, I do apologize for any interruption, but I desperately need your counsel.  Please come immediately."

 

Dumbledore frowned, "I'm afraid that must conclude our discussion this evening. Severus, I trust you will see to Miss Granger's safety?  I do suggest avoiding any delay; perhaps you should show Miss Granger to her new residence?"

 

"I will not let that be the end of this discussion; I will address the issue when you return," Snape snapped.

 

Chuckling quietly, Dumbledore shook his head, "I don't doubt you will.  For now, please lead Miss Granger to your chambers."

 

Standing suddenly, Snape snapped, "Fine.  Come."  He turned and swept out of the headmaster's office, not waiting for Hermione to stand.

 

Hurrying to catch up with the professor, Hermione trotted down the corridor; when she finally caught up to him, she was nearly out of breath.

 

“Professor, I – I’m sorry,” the student panted, “I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

 

Cutting his eyes sideways at her, Snape growled, “You aren’t the one putting me in this situation – Dumbledore is.  I don’t see how he could possibly even consider this as a feasible solution.  This way,” they had reached a narrow set of stone stairs that led down into a darkened hall; Snape swiftly descended it, immediately turned to stride through a dank corridor, and breezed down several steps before they were met with a wall that seemed to be made of dark marble.  The wizard placed his hand against the wall, which apparently caused the marble to melt, leaving a two-inch strip of the shiny dark stone on the floor.  Stepping over it, Snape gave an unenthusiastic, “tada.”

 

Hermione hesitantly peered around the man to see a room much smaller than the living area in her house, the walls packed floor-to-ceiling with books, a single armchair sitting next to a small sofa in front of a fireplace.  She saw that there was another room through the sitting area, but it was much too dark for her to be able to tell what it was – she assumed it was the bedroom.

 

"Why are you just standing there?" Snape demanded, "You will have to come in at some point."

 

Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before cautiously entering her teacher's chambers; she looked around awkwardly and stammered, "This - this is n-nice."

 

"Spare me your patronizing and stop that fidgeting," Snape remarked.

 

The girl frowned up at him for a short time then attempted to behave as though she wanted to be there, "Well, I _have_ always wondered what the professors' living arrangements were like, and I admit I'm just getting more curious.  Do you have a bathroom or do you have to use the one in the next hall?"

 

"Of course I have a bathroom," he snapped, "What sort of question is that?  I can hardly walk to the lavatory in the corridor in the middle of the night; I daresay it would be extremely awkward to happen upon a student while I'm less-than-decent." Snape groaned internally, cursing himself for having to say a bitter retort; he hadn't considered his words before speaking and had, consequently, informed his student that he wore no pajamas.

 

Flushing with embarrassment, Hermione gave a nervous chuckle, "Yes, it would be uncomfortable to run into a student when you're not wearing any pants."

 

Snape's face turned ashen, "And now there is a student staying with me."

 

Hermione became very pink, "Oh.  Right.  I guess there is.  I'm so sorry.  I know this is awful for you."

 

Snape grunted and left to the dim room Hermione hadn't been able to see.  He growled suddenly, "Damn it all."

 

"Si-sir?" she slowly ventured into the room; it was, indeed, his bedroom, and he was glaring at the double bed angrily.

 

"Looks as though you will be on the floor."

 

Hermione realized why he was frustrated; he had no desire to share his chambers, much less his bed, and there was no other place for her to sleep.

 

"That's fine, sir; I'm sure I'll be comfortable," she waved her wand, manifesting a thin cushion and plopped down onto it; she crossed her legs, "See?  I'm all set."

 

Snape scowled at her and huffed in disapproval, "Your first class begins at nine tomorrow; I have no lesson to lesson until ten, so I trust you can manage to get dressed silently, without waking me."

 

Hermione nodded, "Definitely."  After a moment, she quietly asked, "Is there somewhere I can change into my pajamas?"

 

"Bathroom," Snape gestured to a door behind her.

 

She headed into the bathroom and, as quickly as possible, switched from her robes to the sleep clothes she summoned from her bag, not wanting Snape to think she was snooping.

 

When she returned to the bedroom, she saw that Snape had replaced his billowy robes with black pants and a long emerald bathrobe, a black sash tied around his waist to secure that it was closed, although she could see a bit of his bare chest near the top where it opened; Hermione quickly averted her eyes, Snape's piercing gaze making her feel very guilty for seeing him in anything besides the usual long cloak he generally wore.

 

He looked at his student speculatively as she settled to sit cross legged on the cushion that would be her bed, "It's much cooler down here than in Gryffindor Tower; I wont be surprised if I wake to find you frozen stiff."  Snape surveyed her, his dark eyes raking over her thin white tee and sweeping up her bare legs; her blue shorts were little protection from the cool air. Silently, Snape sat on his bed.

 

Hermione curled up on the makeshift bed, using her arm as a pillow, turning her back to the professor, whose eyes remained on her ivory legs.

 

Once she had stopped shifting in an effort to get comfortable, Snape stood and shed his green bathrobe before lying in his bed, turning his back to Hermione, and quickly tucking the black silk sheet under his chin, covering himself from her eyes should she wake in the middle of the night.

 

However, it was Snape who woke a mere hour later.   He glanced unhappily over his shoulder at Hermione; she was curled into a tight ball, shivering slightly.

 

Rolling his eyes, Snape stood from his bed, stepped to the little closet and retrieved a thin blanket; he unceremoniously tossed it over the girl and returned to bed.


	2. Excuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron question Hermione's absence, and Snape makes no attempt to hide his displeasure with the circumstances of the living arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long; I'm in the process of moving out of my house. I have several more parts written, and none of them taking the plot in the same direction; so, until I decide how I want this to go, I'll have to put off posting much of anything more. I apologize.

Rolling over, her back aching and stiff, Hermione groaned as she sat up, a blanket falling off her shoulders.   _ She hadn’t had a blanket...had she? _  She figured that she must have summoned one in her sleep.  Shrugging, a zap of hot ice shot up the side of her neck and to the base of her skull; Hermione squealed in pain, clutching the ache.

 

“What the hell?” Snape abruptly sat up, having been woken by the girl’s exclamation.

 

“Sorry, Professor,” a small voice said from his floor.  He had nearly forgotten that the student was there.  Snape groaned and ran his long fingers through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face.  Hermione had never seen him do something that looked so...normal; it was startling.  

 

Snape was glad that he no longer woke every morning with a raging erection, as he had earlier in his life; that would have made it very awkward when he walked past her to use the restroom.  Hermione hardly noticed the man stepping around her cushion as he headed for his bathroom.

 

_ Damn _ .  _ Damn _ .  _ Damn. Damn it.   _ Snape glared into the black eyes looking back out at him from the mirror.  He had always found Hermione bothersome, though he didn’t know exactly why, but that didn’t make it any less irritating to wake to find her in his room.   Sighing in resignation, Snape headed back into his room, anxious to return to the warmth of his bed; his bare feet were freezing against the ice-cold stone floor.  

 

Hermione had lain back down and was fixing a nervous gaze on the bathroom door;  _ was he angry with me for waking him?   _ Seeing the door handle turn, she braced herself for the wrath he would surely unleash upon her.  

 

Stepping from the bathroom, Snape realized he was too tired to snap at her for waking him.  The door behind him drifted closed as Hermione’s eyes widened slightly.  Snape had not put on his bathrobe and was standing bare-chested in front of her; broad but not excessively so, muscular but not bulky, toned to faintly define his muscular structure, very sparsely dusted with black hair, a thin line of it down the center, starting just under his ribcage, thickening as it encircled his bellybutton before disappearing into his black pajama bottoms.  Hermione felt herself internally gasp at the surprising image.

 

“I know I woke you,” Hermione spoke, sitting up again “I didn’t mean to, really; I’m sorry.”

 

Not acknowledging her any more than to grunt as he passed by the cushion she was lying on, Snape returned to bed.

 

_________________________________________________

 

“What the bloody hell happened to you, ‘Mione?” Ron asked through a mouthful of kippers, “You wer’on the train, an’ at dinner, but tha’s the last time we saw you.”

 

Hermione sent a brief scowl toward the Head Table to see that Snape looked even grumpier than usual – he was glaring at his own breakfast as though it had personally done him wrong; the girl frowned at Ron, “I…I got distracted in the library.”

 

“On  _ the first night _ ?” Harry questioned, “We hadn’t even had a class yet!”

 

“You know I like to be ahead, in case I miss a class.”

 

“You’ve  **never** missed a class!” Ron exclaimed.

 

Scarfing down the last bits of her poached egg, Hermione declared, “And I don’t intend to start now!  We have Defense Against the Dark Arts; let’s see if this Ministry-woman Umbridge actually knows how to teach.”

  
  


_________________________________________________

  
  


It turned out that Umbridge had no intention of actually teaching; she gave a frightfully chipper speech about the importance of knowledge, but the necessity to learn in  _ an orderly fashion, _ which actually meant not learning, but memorizing.  Harry’s big mouth and lack of restraint got him detention when he all but blatantly told the sickly-pink instructor that she was an idiot.  The woman proceeded to assign their homework (to list all tactics that could be used in avoiding confrontation).

 

On their way to Transfiguration, Ron huffed, “We’re not going to use magic in there?  No, it’s a school of  _ magic _ , why would we  _ use  _ magic to  _ learn  _ magic in a  _ school  _ **_of_ ** _ magic _ ?  I bet Dumbledore’s in the dark on this one.”

 

McGonagall, as usual, skipped the introductory review of what they would be learning that year, and instead immediately jumped into the wand movement used to turn a dinner plate into a mushroom.  Also as usual, Hermione was the first to successfully complete the task, earning her scowls from her two best friends, who she left to attend Ancient Runes, while they enjoyed a free period.

 

The three met again in Potions, which Hermione had been dreading; she set up her brewing station, read over the ingredients written on the blackboard, and hurried to collect them from the cupboard.  She arranged the powdered Bicorn horn, firefly wings, pygmy blood, and mermaid scales neatly on the table in front of her and waited for the professor to arrive.

 

As he swept into the classroom, wearing his expected look of irritation, his black eyes flicked to Hermione and the gathered ingredients in front of her.  Snape had no sooner reached the front of the room, turned to face the students when he barked, “Granger!  What is on your table?”

 

Hermione blinked at him, “The ingredients for today’s potion, sir.”

 

Snape’s lip curled, “I don’t recall instructing  _ anyone  _ to raid my cabinets.  Put everything back where you found it."

 

“But sir, I’ll just have to measure everything out again and – ”

 

“ **Now** .”

 

Narrowing her eyes at him, Hermione collected her powders, bugs, leaves, blood, and scales, then headed to the cabinet where she had gotten them.

 

“You will be brewing a moisturizing salve today,” he said to the class; his glare found the bushy-haired girl, “should Miss Granger ever return to her seat.”

 

Hermione frowned pointedly at him as she made her final trip to the cupboard; when she sat at her workstation, Snape fixed her with an icy look, “Five points from Gryffindor for your brazenness, Miss Granger, and ten for plowing through my stores.”

 

The girl opened her mouth to protest as she scowled at him.

 

“Ah, yes,” he added, “And five more for glaring at me.”

 

Snape deducted an additional thirty points throughout the two hours, attributing the losses to silly things like that she had scraped the bottom of the bowl when scooping out powder, or that she was impeding other students’ view of the chalkboard with her frizzy hair.

 

She had to stay in that man’s chambers.

  
  


____________________

  
  


Immediately following Potions, it was lunchtime.  Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny sat at the Gryffindor table.

 

“I know he’s never been pleasant – far from it – but, man, Snape sure is being rough on you, Hermione.  What’d you do to ‘im?  We’ve only been here one night!”

 

Hermione flitted her eyes to the Head Table, expecting to be pinned with another disdainful look from Snape, but he wasn’t there.  She sighed and responded, “Yeah, I know.  I – I ran into him in the library last night…”

 

“So what?”

 

“No, Harry,” Hermione sighed, “I ran **_into_** him.   _Literally_.  I guess he hasn’t forgiven me yet.”

  
  


The three fifth years headed to Charms, where Flitwick squeaked out the syllabus for the year in his tiny voice, which somehow took up the entire hour and a half – most likely because Seamus kept raising his hand to ask silly questions, obviously trying to delay any actual classwork.

 

Care of Magical Creatures was at least entertaining, with Hagrid attempting to get a Knarl to stay put while the students sketched the creature – he even tried laying out sunflower petals and grass to coax it toward the class, but the Knarl simply sniffed the air before scurrying away to Hagrid’s garden and digging up half of the row of carrots and shredding several heads of cabbage; the giant teacher ran after the angry animal, exclaiming, “Not my cabbages, yeh bloody hedgehog!  Class dismissed!”  Hagrid rushed away to the garden, leaving the students to go on their way.

  
  


_________________________________________________

  
  


After dinner, Harry and Ron headed the direction of Gryffindor Tower, Hermione following at a glacial pace; she didn’t think Dumbledore would like it very much if she spent time in the one place he had been insistent that she leave.

 

Noticing the girl had lagged behind, Harry turned around, “Hermione?  You okay?”

 

She nodded, staring blankly at her book bag, unsure of how to explain, “Yes.  I just – I think I should start on that ridiculous paper Umbridge assigned; the Common Room is too noisy – I’m just going to go to the library.”  Hermione wanted desperately to spend time with her friends; she always missed them so much over break, but it was bearable when she knew they would have nights to stay up ungodly late in the Common Room to talk – now she didn’t even have that.  “You – you two should come with me,” she suggested hesitantly, knowing the boys well enough to predict their reaction.

 

Ron gave Harry a look of expected irritation, “You’ve lost your head!  I’m not spendin’ the first night back in  _ the library!   _ I’m gonna challenge every person in the common room to Wizard’s Chess, and I’m gonna start by kicking Harry’s arse.  But you have fun, ‘Mione.” 

 

Hermione gave a convincing sigh of exasperation, “Fine.  I’m sorry I thought you two might like to put forth some  _ actual  _ effort this year, considering Umbridge and all.”

 

The boys rolled their eyes as Hermione turned to head toward the library, glad that they had refused; she was actually returning to the dungeons, to Snape’s –  _ Snape and her _ – chambers, intendingv to demand that he apologize for his treatment of her in class.   _ Snape, apologize?  You really  _ **_have_ ** _ lost your head... _

 

The girl was startled to find herself barred from entering the quarters, unable to melt the marble with her own palm, the stone remaining solid even when numerous heating charms, exploding spells, and vulgar words aimed at it.   Hermione sighed, leaned back against the wall and slid down it to sit on the floor.  She really shouldn’t have been surprised that Snape had exclusive access to his chambers

 

After roughly forty-five minutes of sitting in the stone floor, Hermione grumbled and decided she should put her time to use; she pulled out several books, a stack of parchment and half a dozen quills of her bag and began writing notes from the texts.  

 

“What in the devil are you doing sprawled on the floor, Granger?  And why is there this mess?” Snape’s sharp tone startled Hermione; she jumped slightly, knocking over the new bottle of ink she had just opened.

 

Hermione hurried to get up as she frowned at him, “Look at what you made me do!  That was a brand new bottle of  **Inkmaster’s Ink** !  Do you know how much that cost? Three hundred galleons!  I had to special order it two months ago!”

 

Snape narrowed his black eyes at her, then lowered them to the spilled ink before glaring at her again, “What I  _ made  _ you do?  Clean it up. Why the hell were you on the floor to begin with?”

 

“Yes, what you  _ made  _ me do; you startled me and made me jump!” Hermione flicked her wand toward the inky pool slowly seeping along the grout between the stone pavers, cleaning the thick liquid in one motion before summoning the books and papers she had scattered about the floor, “I was on the floor because you weren’t here and I can’t get into the chambers; you are apparently the only one who can.  So I decided to get a head start and take down a few notes.”

 

Snape tightened his mouth and brushed past the student to open the wall while Hermione struggled to gather her things.   Her arms full of books, folders, piles of paper, quills, and empty inkwells, she fought to see over her load as she made her way toward his door.  Hermione could feel Snape’s scowl on her as she approached the doorway; she wished he would stop watching her and go do something else.  

 

Of course, she was not so lucky; Snape stood and watched her attempting to lug all of her things into his - _their_ \- chambers. Once she had successfully carried her books, notes, quills, and ink inside, Hermione headed quickly for the bedroom to drop the armload onto her "bed".  She didn't notice the now-empty bottle of **Inkmaster's Ink** slip out of her hold to the floor, rolling toward her professor.   The small bottle only stopped its journey when it rolled into the side of Snape's patent-leather boot; he bent to pick it up and throw it in the trash bin.  Idly looking it over as he headed to the garbage, he saw the words _Powdered_ _Unicorn_ _Horn._ That explained why it was so expensive. 

 

"Unicorn horn?" Snape raised an eyebrow at Hermione as she returned from dropping off her things. 

 

"Sir?"

 

Snape held up the little bottle silently.  

 

"Oh, yes, it gives the ink a wonderful shine!" Hermione answered, "it's a shame that it spilled; I've never used it before - only seen it on others' papers; I hadn't even used it yet - I'd just opened it."  Her voice was quiet and defeated. 

 

"A true tragedy," Snape drawled sarcastically. 

 

Hermione frowned at him, summoned one of the textbooks she had placed on her cushion, along with several sheets of parchment then sat once again on the floor to resume her assignments, while Snape took a book from a shelf, sat in his chair, and began reading.   


	3. Observing

After two weeks of staying in his chambers, Hermione had figured out that she could assess his mood by how he entered the quarters: if he snatched the decanter of liquor from the small bar and fell immediately in his chair, taking a draught straight from the container, she knew he was not in a mood to be trifled with; if he strode to the bar, poured himself a drink and selected a book before sitting, he was in (very slightly) better spirits.

Hermione was sitting at the small table in the corner, so immersed in her homework that she didn't even notice his arrival as she fervently wrote the essay Professor Binns had assigned.

“Miss Granger,” Snape's voice jerked her out of her concentration; she looked up from her nearly complete work to see her teacher shedding his outer cloak.

“Yes?”

Snape glanced at her, “What?”

“You - you said my name...”

“Yes; it's referred to as a greeting, if I recall correctly.”

“Oh,” Hermione sighed, baffled by the man's behavior; he had never greeted her before.

She wrote the closing sentence of her paper and moved to the sofa, eyeing Snape suspiciously, “You've never greeted me. Why now? Are you in a good mood or something? It's a bit frightening.”

“If you must know, I gave two First Year Ravenclaws detention.”

“You're in a good mood because you got to scare some First Years?” Hermione said disapprovingly.

“We all have our own little pleasures.” Snape smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes..

____________________

“Dumbledore specifically said that you can't take points from me when I'm here! It's not fair because no one else has a teacher who is with them in the common rooms!” Hermione protested after Snape had tried to take points from Gryffindor because she spent too long in the bathroom.

“I suppose I'll simply have to remember to deduct them for some reason in class tomorrow,” Snape shrugged.

“Professor! You. can't. do. that.”

“Excuse me? I what?”

Hermione wilted, “Nothing, sir.”

Snape snarled as she went back to reading.

____________________

 

The girl was on the lying on her stomach on the floor, doing monotonous, repetitive, and useless homework for Defense Against the Dark Arts, while Snape read a large book in the corner.

Snape's dark eyes lifted from the pages of his book to see Hermione chewing on the end of her quill, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tapped her wand on the stone floor.

She snarled quietly, pushing the hair out of her face; the professor watched her for a few minutes, recalling the determination he had when he was a student - Hermione’s diligence and desire for perfection was very familiar, for he had possessed those same attributes. Snape studied her, realizing that she was, in fact, quite like him when it came to being studious.

Hermione had gone from chewing her quill to biting her lower lip, focused intently on her work, as she ran the feather writing instrument through her fingers. The professor blinked several times, suddenly aware that he was not observing her, but admiring, idly wondering what it would be like for him to bite her lip.

A moment after he realized he was not looking at her for any excusable reason, Hermione lifted her eyes to Snape and was startled by the man gazing at her, “Professor? Are you alright?”

“What? Yes, of course,” he replied, slightly caught off guard, “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know...you were just looking at me like...I don’t know...weird.”

Snape remained silent, not tossing a snide remark at her, which stunned Hermione. The professor returned to reading, leaving Hermione to briefly frown at him incredulously before continuing her homework

After an hour, the girl began feverishly flipping through her Defensive Magical Theory book.

She huffed, "Ugh! Can I ask you something?"

Snape, who had returned to reading, didn't take his gaze from the book in his hands, "Surely you know, Miss Granger, that I cannot assist you."

"That - That's not what I was going to ask."

After a long silence, she spoke again, "So...can I ask you something?"

"Hm?" Snape still didn't look away from his book.

"Why did Professor Dumbledore hire Umbridge? She's not really teaching us," Hermione questioned, "Besides, there are plenty of other choices of instructor. I mean, I know you, yourself would be an exponentially better teacher than her."

At this, Snape looked up to his student, "What did you just say?"

"I said you would be a better teacher than Umbridge - a lot better."

Frowning, incredulous, Snape asked, "And what makes you think that?" He knew it was more than likely because of his brief history involved with the Dark Arts, where the girl must have assumed he learned a significant amount of nefarious spellwork.

"Your instructions are always thorough and precise; you leave no room for questions. Practical exercises are challenging but not too hard...you're just a better teacher."

"Not too hard, you say? Hm, I'll have to fix that."

"You're just mean," Hermione said, frowning in only a halfway serious way.

"I know," Snape smirked, "Now, finish your homework, Miss Granger."

When she had returned to her assignment, he cast furtive glances at Hermione, considering why exactly he had been admiring her before, slowly realizing that there was much to be admired in her; his dark eyes found the hand she was using to drum on her fingers on the book and noticed the fluid rhythm of her taps, the shiny but unmanicured nails, the small tendons of her slender, feminine fingers flexing beneath the soft skin. Snape’s mind couldn’t resist falling into a dizzying thought of those fingers on his skin, touching his face, tracing his lips, and easily being drawn into his mouth for him to discover with his tongue, which would soon slide between her fingers to mimic him tasting --

“Professor?” Hermione’s voice jolted him out of the fantasy, but his physical reaction remained; he swiftly pulled his robes to cover what he could feel was a prominent bulge in his trousers.

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Yes, Miss Granger?”

Her eyes were slightly wide, “Are you staring at me for any particular reason...sir?”

“I wasn’t aware I was,” he lied smoothly; the girl narrowed her eyes skeptically.

As she resumed her schoolwork, the professor adjusted his robes and cautiously stood and, under the ruse of trading in his book, walked to the shelf directly in front of her, replaced the tome he had been perusing, chose another, then sat on the closer sofa. Snape eyed her cautiously, trying to avoid her catching his observation, and fell back into his daydream.  
It had been so long - unbelievably long - since he had tasted a woman, and he soon found his chest alight in an unfamiliar way as he thought of tasting her skin, her mouth, her kiss. Would she be sweet as though a ripe fruit or the richest confection? Would she be gentle and innocent or eager and passionate? And, if she were bedded, tentative and shy or confident and lustful? Loathe as he was to admit or acknowledge it, he was certain he would never find answers to these questions, regardless of how suddenly and intensely he wanted them.

Try as he might, Snape couldn’t comprehend from where these thoughts had manifested, but his mind was consumed by fantasies of the girl, Snape’s mind filled with questions he quite enjoyed pondering over. What sounds come from her when in an intimate encounter? How would she prefer to be pleased? Would she enjoy a tender touch, soft and gentle? Is she more inclined to relish in the physical, purely carnal act? Was she someone who screamed her pleasure, unashamed of the explosions radiating within her? Was she someone who would sigh with ecstasy, overcome with earth-shattering waves, breathing her approval into his ear, a profession only for him to hear, an intimate confession of her soul?

Snape was more rigid than he could remember being as he realized that she was most likely entirely inexperienced; he found himself thinking about how she would feel, how she would respond to being penetrated for the first time.  
He unintentionally and unknowingly emitted a grunt.

Hermione looked at him, “Did you say something?”

Scoffing, Snape replied, “Certainly not.”

“You - you were staring at me again…”

“I don’t think so,” as resolute as he sounded, Hermione thought she saw his face tinge very slightly, almost imperceptibly, with pink.

Snape looked down at his book and finally began to read, leaving Hermione to survey him; he had seemed almost sheepish when she had questioned him. She didn’t know why he had been looking at her, or why he had claimed he wasn’t - unless he was embarrassed about it for some reason. Why would he be embarrassed that he was looking at her? Hermione knew of one possible reason, but that! That was preposterous! And, yet, she couldn’t ignore the tingling knot in her stomach when she had caught him looking at her, and she certainly couldn’t overlook the excitement she felt in knowing he’d been watching her. She swallowed the knot that had appeared in her throat and shifted her hips in an effort to get rid of the weird, but not unpleasant, feeling his gaze had caused between her legs.

____________________

After completing all her assignments, Hermione yawned, standing, "Professor? Can I - do you mind if I go to bed?" As her cushion was in his bedroom, Hermione thought it only polite to ask.

Snape looked at her, setting his book aside as he stood, "Certainly; as a matter of fact, it's time I retire, as well."

Hermione headed into the bedroom, grabbed her pajamas, went to the bathroom to charge, and was sitting on her makeshift bed by the time Snape entered the room; He frowned briefly. Hermione had never gotten into the bedroom before he did; she realized that he shouldn't have to go to the bathroom to change, so Hermione hopped up and went to the sitting room, "Just let me know when I can come back in."

After a minute or two, she heard Snape's voice, "Miss Granger. You can enter."

"Miss Granger," Snape said, raking his eyes over her shorts and thin shirt she wore to bed, "You really should wear something more substantial; I daresay you actually would have frozen to death had I not been covering you with that blanket."

"You...You did that? I thought maybe I was summoning it in the middle of the night."

Snape rolled his eyes.

Sighing, Hermione looked sheepishly at her professor, "Thank you, sir. I - I don't really have anything warmer; Gryffindor Tower is usually quite warm, so all of my pajamas are very nearly identical to this; but it is much colder down here; I'll have to buy something else when we take our trip to Hogsmead."

Sliding his arms out of his emerald bathrobe, Snape approached her and wrapped it over her shoulders, letting her slip it on her own arms, "Here. I'm accustomed to the temperature. "

Hermione gave a hesitant, gobsmacked smile and watched Snape rifle through several drawers before taking a long-sleeved button-up shirt out of one, "It's not meant to be a night shirt, but it will be warmer than what you have...at least until you get new ones next month."

The girl just looked at him, dumbfounded and impressed by his seemingly out-of-character concern and kindness.


	4. Surprises

Hermione tried to shove through the mob of students loudly protesting the announcement of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four.

“That doesn’t include Chess Club, does it?” a Ravenclaw girl questioned frantically.

“What about Dueling Club?”

Harry and Ron were so distressed, you’d have thought meals were banned, not after-class organizations.

“You don’t think the toad will make us stop playing Quidditch, doya?” Ron asked.

Harry glared at the poster displaying the newest rule, “Yeah, Ron, I think she’d stop anything just to show she can,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Excuse me! Hey, can I get through? Can you please move?” Hermione tried her best to get through the sea of students, “Please move! I have to get to class!”

It seemed her pleas fell on deaf ears, for no one made the slightest effort to make way for the girl to get through.

Class had started five minutes before Hermione fell through the door to the Potions classroom.

“How nice of you to join us, Miss Granger; see me after class,” Snape drawled before he returned to the lesson.

“It seems that Madam Pomfrey wishes to have a great deal of the Draught of Peace, no doubt in expectation of stress over the O.W.L.s at the end of the year; I would have to agree that it is prudent for her to have an abundant stock; I'm sure many of you will experience overwhelming anxiety - and for good reason, from your dismal performance in my class. In light of this, she has asked for my assistance in brewing the potion. I hardly wish to spend the next few months preparing elixirs to quell the fears of incompetent students who are rightfully fearful. Therefore, you will each be brewing the Draught of Peace this class, and, should you find yourself in need of its effects, you will have your own cauldron of it. Now, bear in mind that your finished brew is all you will be provided; should it be ineffective, you will have to live with the consequences. Begin,” Snape flicked his wand and instructions for the potion appeared in his tall, stern handwriting.

Hermione set up her cauldron and began working. She tried to ignore the hushed chatter between Harry and Dean, who she was sharing a table with.

Dean looked like he was going to concentrate so intensely that his brain would implode; he raised his hand. Snape ignored him. It wasn't until Dean started waving his hand in the air that Snape addressed him, “Is there a problem, Mister Thomas?”

“Is...is it supposed to look like that?”

Sighing irritability, Snape approached their table; he glanced into Dean's cauldron, “Did you follow the instructions?”

“I - I thought so...it's not supposed to be so lumpy, is it?”  
  
“Indeed not,” Snape leaned forward to look straight down at the brew, steadying himself with a hand on either side of the table, not intending to place his left so close to Hermione's, but the tip of his little finger had ended up on top of her index; Hermione froze. Snape cleared his throat, too aware of the contact. The girl moved her finger the slightest bit, a millimeter closer to his hand. Snape flicked his eyes to the point of contact, not knowing if it had been intentional, before bowing his head, “I believe the only way to salvage this potion is to carry on, simply doubling it; you've used too much unicorn horn, Mr. Thomas.”

“Oh, alright; that's what I'll do, then,” Dean said.

Snape straightened and returned to prowling the room.

____________________

“Harry, no!” Hermione hissed under her breath, peering into the boy’s cauldron “Don't add the quills until turns purple!”

Harry made a face at her, “You know I can read the board just as good as you can, right?” He dumped in the porcupine quills; less than five seconds passed before his cauldron started emitting sparks as Hermione frowned into the pot.

A hand seized the back of Hermione's collar and yanked her away from the cauldron a second before it exploded. She was shoved aside as the professor snarled, “Potter! What do you think you're doing? What went wrong?”

“He added the porcupine quills before it turned - ” Hermione started, stepping back to her spot at the lab table, nervously picking at the chipping wood of the desk.

Snape glared at her, “Is your name ‘Potter’, Miss Granger?”

Harry shot daggers at Snape, “Exactly what Hermione was saying.”

Snape waved his wand, emptying Harry's cauldron, “Zero.” He rested his hand on the corner of the table thoughtfully, “And fifty points from Gryffindor for inability to follow instructions.”

“But - ”

“Silence. And Miss Granger,” he whirled to look at her, bracing himself by gripping the table again, “Ten for being foolish enough to get so close to a potion you suspected was volatile; I daresay you'd have caught fire had I not pulled you from its disaster range.”

Hermione nodded, “Okay, sir; and thank you for keeping me from bursting into flames.” Their hands were once again so close to each other, it gave Hermione the impression that she could be less formal with him, so after speaking in jest to him without being reprimanded, she gave a besotted expression, placing her hand atop his, “I am forever in your debt, sir. I doubt I could _ever_ repay you.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock at what his friend had done and worry about how the professor would react. Snape quickly pulled his hand out from under hers, placed it firmly on the back of Hermione’s hand, gripping slightly, “What do you think you are doing, Granger?”

Hermione didn't respond; she couldn't. Had she gone too far? Was the notion that she could be less formal with him simply a delusion? Oh shit.

Snape's obsidian eyes just barely narrowed; Hermione swallowed nervously. The professor slowly moved his hand from hers, dragging it along the back of her hand at an almost glacial pace, their skin sliding over one another's; Hermione felt as though the friction was searing her flesh, but not in an unpleasant way. As he removed his hand, Snape discreetly brushed the pad of his thumb over the tip of her pinkie; the contact, though brief, was almost intoxicating, sending shivers down Hermione's spine, starting a subtle heat in her belly.

As the professor left their table, Harry hissed, “What was that about, ‘Mione? Have you lost your mind?”

Hermione bit her lip, “Maybe.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Walking into the chambers, Hermione hummed quietly, her thoughts consumed with the encounter in his class earlier.

_What is wrong with you, Hermione? You just had to open your mouth, didn't you? He's Professor Snape; what on earth did you think he would do? . Honestly , how did you expect him to react?_  
  
Entering the sitting room, she found Snape sitting in his leather chair, reading The Daily Prophet. Hermione tried to be as discreet as possible, not wanting to have to face him after the incident.

"Miss Granger," he said, flicking his dark eyes to rest on her, "Come."

She hesitantly obeyed; she just knew he was going to unleash his wrath upon her...but, then again, he didn't seem to be in any hurry when he had taken his hand from hers, and the brief brush of the tip of his finger over hers was undeniable and quite perplexing.

Standing, Snape gave a faint smirk, "I'm not going to scold you, Miss Granger; no need to worry."

When she was finally in front of him, Snape reached into his cloak, removed a medium-sized green box, looked it over briefly, then held it out to her, "For you."

The girl blinked, "What? I thought all of the mail already came this morning..."

"It didn't come in your mail," Snape said simply.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at him, "What do you mean?"

"It didn't come in your mail," Snape repeated, looking as though he were slightly uncomfortable, "Just open the damned thing."

She sat on the small sofa and cautiously opened the package; under the green wrapping there was a plain cardboard box. Hermione looked at Snape, who waved his hand to tell her to open it. Lifting the top flaps of cardboard, she had the brief thought that perhaps Snape was so irritated with her constant presence that he had wrapped a hundred Stink Bombs and this was a box full of cruel retaliation; but then she remembered how he had been much more pleasant lately, and that he often seemed to look at her, not as though she was an irritating nuisance of a girl, but with intrigue and slight confusion, as if he was trying to identify the exact ingredients in a potion with only a small sample.

Hermione lifted the second set of cardboard flaps and gasped, "Professor! What - did you...? Oh, Professor!" She leapt up and hurried to him, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him, leaving the box of different colours of **Inkmaster's Ink** and several elaborate quills on the sofa.

"I thought it only right that I replaced the ink I caused you to spill," he said, still being hugged by the girl.

"Thank you! You didn't have to do that..."

"But I did," Snape replied cheekily as she released him.

She returned to the sofa and summoned a piece of parchment, opened the vial of black ink, dipped a royal blue and gold feathered quill into it and wrote her name; the black was dark and thick, a faint shimmer of silver somewhere within it. Hermione wrote her name in the red, blue, purple, and pink inks, doodled a bit, and marvelled at the silky shine of the ink.

"Do you approve?" She heard Snape's voice from beside her. She looked at him to see that he was sitting next to her, slightly slouched on the sofa.

"Yes! I greatly approve!" Hermione replied enthusiastically, beaming at him; he had never seen her look so happy, "it's perfect! It's wonderful! I can't believe you - I love it! I can't believe you did this! I just…Why?”

“I am the reason you didn't get the opportunity to enjoy the bottle you originally had; this is a replacement for it.”

  
Hermione opened her mouth in shock, “Well, I didn't expect you do that at all, but this - this is a lot more than replacing that little bottle of ink! There are **five** bottles of ink and five very fancy quills! This - this is too much…”

Snape frowned, looking at her; he couldn't recall having seen Hermione so elated - the girl was glowing with joy, “You think I should return it?”

“Oh, n-no, I'm not saying that, by any means; I just...wouldn't you like to have it? Display it on a shelf or something? I mean, it's the most beautiful thing in this room.”

Snape sighed and glanced down at his hands, shaking his head.


	5. Brainstorming

“Shush!” Harry urged Ron to stop talking, shifting his green eyes meaningfully toward Umbridge, who was marching up and down the rows of tables in the library.

“Right, yeah, I think the Chudley Cannons are gonna go all the way this season,” the Weasley said loudly, hoping to throw the High Inquisitor off the trail.

“They may, Ronald, but I really think the Holyhead Harpies might beat them,” Hermione joined in.

Umbridge sniffed and headed the other direction.

“That was close,” Harry sighed.

“T _he Harpies_ , Hermione, redly?” Ron groused, “You are aware they've never even made it into the Fifth Division, right?”

Glaring at the redhead, Hermione crossed her arms, “No, I didn't know that, but I think it's safe to say that toad doesn't, either.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Harry shook his head, “Anyway...How're we supposed to let everyone know when we're holding the DA meetings? Any ideas, Hermione?”

“We were _thinking_ we could talk about it tonight in the Common Room, but you're never there,” Ron said grumpily.

“Yeah, Hermione, where have you been? You're the one that always has the clever ideas.”

The girl ignored the question, “I _said_ I'll think of something; you have to give me time to think. Actually, I have a bit of an idea, but I haven't gotten it all sorted out yet...I need to research a bit more; Harry, do you think I could use your Invisibility Cloak next weekend if I can't think of anything else by then?”

“Of course, Hermione, you know that,” Harry nodded before turning to Ron and discussing Quidditch plays and strategies.

Hermione grew bored and tried to brainstorm solutions to the Dumbledore’s Army meetings situation.  
They could get the ghosts of the castle to help out, having them relay the dates and times of meetings, but what would happen if Umbridge decided to restrict their movements around the school?

She considered enlisting House Elves to share the information, but quickly abandoned the idea because of their unnatural obedience to their masters; any member of the school staff could ask an elf what was going on and they would eagerly divulge every shred of information they had.

Sighing, Hermione got up to leave the library; she couldn't form any plausible notions with the two boys looking at her so expectantly. She checked out five books she felt were promising, Madam Pince hardly looking at her, and headed to the chambers she was sharing with the Potions Master.

Snape was sitting at the desk in the corner of the sitting room, critiquing homework assignments.

“Hi, Professor,” Hermione greeted the wizard; he glanced up at her and gave a small nod of acknowledgement.  
Sitting on the sofa, Hermione opened the first, thickest book. She perused it, flipping from chapter to chapter, reading the table of contents for each, nothing being of any help.

Setting it aside and taking the next, slightly thinner, book, Hermione consulted the single table of contents; encouraged by the prospect of a solution, she flipped to the chapter titled Concealing Messages. The girl read the entire chapter, her spirits slowly dampening as she learned that the entire chapter was merely about invisible ink, the magic of how it works, how to make your own invisible ink, and the ways in which it could be misused.  
Hermione picked up the third book, but after reading the summaries of each of the fifty-two chapters, realized that it, too, was useless.

The girl heard Snape shuffling papers, then he sat in his wingback chair and opened his own book.

Reading the table of contents and the index of the fourth book she had brought, Hermione grew worried that she would never find an answer.

The final, fifth book, was, comparably, rather short, with only three hundred pages and twenty chapters; Hermione read the introduction to all of them, finding nothing helpful, checked the index four times just to be sure, then slammed the book closed, snarling.

Snape looked up from his book at her, “Problem?” He arched an eyebrow.

A thought occurred to the student: the person she knew was the best at sneaking around and being deceptive would certainly have some input.

Hermione fidgeted, wringing her hands, “Um, sir...I - I'm trying to find out how one would go about getting messages to someone else without the possibility of the message being intercepted by someone else, or at least a very small possibility.”

“Use a Patronus,” he said simply, still focused on reading

“Well, the thing is that it has to be one way to get various messages to the other person; the message won't always be the same,” she skirted around telling him that the messages would be dates and times.

Snape looked at her silently for a moment before narrowing his eyes, “Need a way to tell Weasley where to meet for a snog?”

“N - ” Hermione started to disagree, but she realized that what Snape had assumed was able to be solved the same way as the issue of Dumbledore’s Army meetings. She coughed and looked down, “Not - not exactly.”

Appearing bored but unwittingly intrigued, the wizard raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised, “Ah. _I see_.”

“Oh! Oh, gods no! _No!_ Not that. We - we just get together with a Harry and a - a couple others to...to study! With me having to stay down here, it's really hard to set up times and we don't want certain people crashing it - hence the secrecy.”

After considering what she had said, Snape looked thoughtful for several moments before responding, “I've heard of a wizard who, in order to be able tell members of his _club_ they were meeting, permanently branded their flesh so that, if they were to come, it would burn on their skin.” He paused briefly, “But I'm sure you're looking for something slightly more subtle.”

Hermione furrowed her brow a bit, “Are you making jokes?”

Snape gave a minuscule shrug, “Perhaps.”

The girl smiled faintly at him and was stunned when the side of his mouth turned up in a sly way, as though he were amused by his comment and a bit proud of his cheekiness.


	6. Narrow Corridors

Hermione pulled Harry's Invisibility Cloak over herself and cautiously stepped out of the Library, into the dim corridor; she quietly crept down the hall. Even though she doubted anyone would be roaming the castle this late, it was always a possibility that Peeves would see her and wake the entire school. She clutched her stack of parchment and bag of the coins she had charmed to alert members of Dumbledore's Army of meetings.

She was in the narrow corridor leading toward the staircase to the dungeons when she saw a shadow moving her direction; Hermione froze.

_Clip clip clip clip_. High heels on the stone floor.

The shadow got closer. _Clip clip cli_ p

"Hem." Hermione's heart stopped.

If Umbridge caught her out of bed in the at nearly two in the morning, the toad would have her in expelled straight away even though the curfew wasn't until 1:00am on weekends, not to mention what would happen if the woman were to see the Dumbledore's Army contraband she was carrying. And if she didn't, how would the student explain why she was heading to the dungeons?

_Clip clip clip clip clip_

There was no where to go; in a few seconds, Umbridge would be close enough to be able to see the bottom half of Hermione's calves, which the cloak didn't cover.

_Clip clip clip clip_

Hermione was suddenly pushed back against the wall and was shocked when she looked up to see Snape.

She started in a hushed whisper, "How did - "

"Shush," Snape said quietly then cast a silent Disillusionment Charm over himself and Hermione.

She saw the pink shoe of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher appear from around the corner, heading their way.

The corridor was too narrow for the pink monster to not bump into them as she passed; as she got nearer, Snape moved closer to his student, trying to make room for the High Inquisitor to pass.

_Clip clip clip clip_

Umbridge was fifteen feet away from them. Snape moved toward Hermione; she felt his warm breath on her cheek.

_Clip clip clip_

The woman was ten feet away.

Snape pushed Hermione farther into the wall, his body flush with hers. The velvet of his frock coat brushed on her arm and she wondered if it was making him uncomfortable that he had gotten so close that her breasts were pressed against his chest. She swallowed hard, the heat from the Invisibility Cloak and his robes becoming overwhelming.

_Clip clip_

Umbridge paused, looked around suspiciously, and Hermione held her breath.

_Clip clip_

Umbridge passed the pair and continued down the hallway, soon turning another corner.

"What were you _thinking_?" Snape hissed in her ear.

"I - I wasn't..." Hermione looked up into his face and was startled to see, not anger, but concern.

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head, her forehead rubbing against the fabric of his cloak.

Snape sighed, his breath hot on her neck; the heat Hermione now felt was not caused by the cloak or his robes. The man stretched his hands and frowned briefly down at her; he had not yet stepped back from her, but was still against her body.

"It was very foolish for you to be wandering the corridors at this hour," he paused and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"I - I know," Hermione answered in a soft, slightly hoarse voice, “but, I had to look up - "

"Hush,” Snape said, bringing his lips to Hermione's, holding her waist firmly; startled, the girl instinctively tried to pull her mouth back from his, but she was pinned against the brick wall. After a moment, Hermione finally acknowledged that she had been fantasizing about this very occurrence; she relaxed, and slowly began to return the kiss, letting Snape’s tongue graze against her own. Snape scraped her lower lip between his teeth before soothing the flesh with a sweep of his tongue.

Snape left her lips, smirking slightly at her, then silently turning and heading toward his chambers.

Although it had been brief, to say the least - two seconds maximum - Hermione felt as though he had spent a year dusting his mouth on hers; the fact that it had seemed languid didn't keep Hermione from wishing it had lasted longer. She blinked several times, shaking her head in an effort to rattle some rational thinking into herself.   
Hermione stayed against the wall, blindsided and thoroughly confused, until she heard the click of Umbridge’s heels echoing down the corridor; the toad of a woman was returning. Hermione dashed to Snape's chambers to see him sitting calmly in his leather chair, reading; he said nothing and didn't even look at her.

“Um...h-hi, Professor,” she said timidly.

“Miss Granger,” his eyes remained on the thick book.

“I - I think I should…” Hermione stuttered, “Ah, I'm going back to bed…”

Snape turned a page,, “Do as you wish.”

The girl frowned; had she merely imagined their encounter a few minutes ago? She licked her lips; no, she could still taste a hint of firewhiskey.

“O - okay...goodnight, sir,” she retreated to the bedroom and slowly changed into her pajama shorts and the shirt Snape was allowing her to use, contemplating what had just happened: she had just been kissed by rofessor Snape, and yet, he showed no sign that it had occurred; he had the same bitter snark he always did, and made no mention of the very unusual - and possibly termination and expulsion worthy - event.


	7. Avoidance

When Hermione woke the next morning, Snape had already left the chambers. The girl was perplexed, but decided to just go about her day as usual. He probably had just gone off to his classroom to work on lesson plans; she was sure he wasn't simply avoiding her. Although, it became clear it became clear that evening, after all of her classes, that was _exactly_ what he was doing; she was sitting on the sofa, reading a novel in Snape’s living area when the chambers door opened. Shape took two steps inside before stopping short when his gaze found the girl; the man narrowed his dark, dark eyes almost imperceptibly, quickly looked away, and strode swiftly into his private brewing room, closing the door firmly behind himself.

Her chocolate eyes remained on the door of his brewing room for a moment, then Hermione sighed; he was, perhaps, concerned that she would confront him, tell him off, and say she was going to go to the Headmaster, tell him that the professor had kissed her, and he would lose his job.  
Of course, Hermione had no intention of doing any of those things; she simply wanted to talk to Snape, find out if he had been Confunded, Imperiused, or had simply drank too much firewhiskey.

___________________

Hermione wiped the back of her hand over her forehead, trying to both get her hair out of her eyes and remove some of the sweat; the Potions classroom was filled with steam from bubbling cauldrons.  
She noticed the less-adept boy next to her hadn't added enough flobberworm puss and was about to go on to the next step, “Neville, it says two tablespoons, not teaspoons.”

Snape’s gaze snapped up to the table in the second row, where the girl was stationed, “Miss - ” he stopped mid-sentence when Hermione looked at him; her eyes met his for a millisecond before he looked away.

“ - takes should, as always, be avoided,” he ended his sentence abruptly.

He had been going to reprimand her, she knew it; what she didn't know was why he had stopped mid-scold.

 

___________________

 

Planning again to attempt to talk to the Professor, Hermione entered their chambers with hesitant confidence - it had been a week since the incident in the hallway, and Snape had hardly looked at her. She sighed, falling onto the sofa, when she saw the door to his private lab closed, his cloak hanging on the coat stand in the corner.

She set about her homework, occasionally looking up at the brewing lab, hoping to will him out so she could demand an explanation for his behavior, both in the hall and over the prior seven days. Of course, Hermione’s psychic urgings were futile, for the professor didn’t emerge until at least an hour after the girl had gone to bed.

 

___________________

  
Friday, Hermione had Snape’s class again, and, again, he had avoided all interaction with her.

With the period half over and Hermione’s brew almost complete, she realized that the step said to add the _powdered_ Mandrake root, but the ingredients list had called for _chopped_ Mandrake root; she raised her hand and waited patiently for Snape to acknowledge her. When the professor paused his grading to survey the pupils, his gaze scanned the rows, paused on Hermione and her raised hand, then continued to drift over the room. She had grown used to him ignoring her ‘ _incessant questioning and constant need for praise_ ’, as he called it, but the wizard would usually tire of seeing her hand in the air and eventually answer her inquiry, granted, he did so with immense exasperation. However, after over ten minutes of holding her hand up, and his eyes flitting over her table, hesitating on her at least four times, Hermione concluded that he was just being stubborn.

After considering for several moments, an idea came to her - a very stupid idea, but an idea, nonetheless.

Hermione chopped Mandrake root until she had a quarter cup, as the instructions said; she added it slowly, waiting for the pieces to become a tan color rather than brown before stirring the brew and swallowing hard. Nervously, the star student dumped in a quarter cup of powdered Mandrake root all at once; without a sound, her cauldron burst into flames, singeing some of her hair and badly burning around the side of one eye and down her cheek - Hermione yelped as Lavender Brown shrieked, “Hermione, oh no!”

Snape’s eyes snapped up as Hermione stumbled backward away from her table and the burning cauldron on top of it. With the flick of his wand, the professor had the flames gone in an instant, but his glare was cold enough to have doused the fire by itself, “Hermione Granger!” he roared, “Are you _trying_ to burn down the school? What the devil did you do?”

Hermione whimpered as salty tears stung the raw flesh of her cheek; Snape’s eyes narrowed, and, without looking away from the girl, muttered, “Class dismissed.”

When no one moved, Snape scowled around the room and bellowed, “Have you all gone deaf? Class is dismissed! Get out of here.”

When he looked back at Hermione, after every student had scampered from the room, his eyes were considerably softer, but irritated, nonetheless.

“Professor, I - I’m so sorry. Should I go to Madam Pomfrey?”

Snape strode to his storeroom, saying, “Why? I brew her salves and I have exactly what you need right here.”  
When he quickly returned, he set a bottle of light green liquid on the table, “Use it now and in the evening - apply liberally. Be sure to take it with you. You should be fine by tomorrow.”

Hermione daubed the potion - which was surprisingly thick, although pleasant-smelling - onto the burns on her face, wincing slightly as she touched the raw skin.

  
_______________________

  
Thankfully, she only had one more class that day, Transfiguration, and McGonagall wouldn't stand for students pestering the girl with questions about what had happened to her face.

At supper, Ron and Harry were stunned when Hermione told them that Snape hadn't deducted any points from Gryffindor for the incident.

“He didn't take _any_ points from you?” Harry was beside himself.

Ron complained in a baffled sort of way, “Man, if me of Harry’d done that, the git would have taken away every single point Gryffindor had!”

“”Well, I'm not either one of you two; he was mad - **_very_** mad - but I think he didn't want to deal with me pointing out his instructions were wrong, which would mean it was his fault. He didn't even send me to the Infirmary; he just gave me the - _damn_! I left it in his classroom!”

_______________________

 

By the time supper was over and Hermione had gotten back to the chambers in the dungeons, she he had forgotten all about you ointmen and that she had left it in Snape's classroom.

“ _Be sure to take it with you_ does not mean leave it behind," Snape said only a moment after she had entered their quarters and dropped her books by the door. He was sitting in his tall, elegant leather chair, holding the small bottle of ointment in his hand, holding it up smugly.

Hermione flushed, “I - I know...I didn't mean to.” She took the potion he held out for her and sat on the sofa  
After quickly and carelessly applying the medicine to her face, the girl looked at Snape, “Thank you.”

As if on impulse, he stood and moved to sit with his student on the small couch, facing her, “There really is no need to thank me, Miss Granger.” Snaps seemed to briefly fight back a smile before he used his thumb to smooth out a glob of ointment on her cheekbone. When he didn't immediately pull his hand away, but essentially kept holding her face, Hermione swallowed nervously; was he going to kiss her again? _Please let him kiss me again._ The seconds seemed to crawl sluggishly by as he looked at her and she looked at him.

Snape stood suddenly, jumping away from her as though she had burned his hand. Uncertain what to do or where to go, he swiftly turned this way then that for a moment or two before starting for his personal brewing room, “I should - I should get back to my - ”

“So, what, are we just not going to talk about it?” Hermione spoke rather suddenly.

The professor turned back to face her again and raised an eyebrow, “About what, exactly?”

Hermione sighed heavily, crossing her arms and looking at him as sternly as she dared, “Last weekend...Friday night…? Umbridge? In the hallway?”

“Ah, yes... _that_ ,” Snape narrowed his dark eyes, “Ten points from Gryffindor. It was exceedingly foolish for you to be wandering the corridors at night.”

“You know that's not what I'm talking about!”

“Oh?”

Hermione snarled in her chest, “Yes. You...you Disillusioned us so Umbridge wouldn't see…”

“Indeed. You are most welcome,” Snape said coolly.

“Professor!” she exclaimed, standing.

“Miss Granger.”

“Are you seriously going to make me spell it out for you?” Hermione questioned in a defeated tone.

“As amusing as I'm sure that would be,” Snape sighed, “no; I know what you're referring to…” He stepped to the girl, “I apologize. There's nothing more I can do besides that, I'm afraid.”

“You think that's what I want? An apology?”

The wizard gave a distrustful look, “My termination?”

Hermione sighed, shaking her head, a tiny, shy smile at her lips.

Snape noticed the coy expression on her face and quirked an eyebrow slightly, “That I vow it never happen again?”

She looked up at him with an exaggerated expression of innocence.

“Or that it does?”

Hermione nodded silently just before her mouth was claimed by the wizard’s; he grasped the small of her back and took her face in his hand as his tongue invaded. Her mind in a whirlwind, Hermione hardly heard Snape mumbling an incantation against her lips.


	8. Ominous

The Great Hall was filled with an excessive buzz of chatter when Hermione entered for breakfast the following morning and it seemed that every single student had a copy of The Daily Prophet.

Approaching Harry and Ron, Hermione asked, “What's going on?”

With an expression of something between pity and anger, Harry passed her the paper.  Hermione suspected something major had happened simply from the atmosphere in the room, but the article title confirmed it:  **Proposed Law Limiting Muggle-Born Reproduction Voting Tomorrow**

Hermione quickly read the short article - which was proposed by none other than Dolores Umbridge herself - becoming more and more frustrated; the law would prohibit any Muggle-Born witch or wizard from having more than one child. 

“This is insane!” she sighed, sitting down at the table.

Ron sat beside her, “Sorry, ‘Mione.”

Hermione couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter, “Oh,  _ I  _ don't care; I would honestly not have but one anyway, but it's  **the point** of it, Ronald!”

 

Malfoy, who was sitting between his friends at the Slytherin table sneered, “Who would even want to make a kid with  _ you,  _ Granger?  Personally, I think Mudbloods shouldn't be allowed to reproduce at all, I mean - ” his words were cut off when a majestic eagle owl flying overhead dropped an envelope, smacking the boy right in the face.

“Damn it, Bartholomeu,” he cursed at the bird as he opened the letter.  Draco’s eyes flitted over the paper, his already pale face draining of all color before he leapt up and practically ran out of the Great Hall.

 

“What was that about, do you reckon?” Seamus asked. 

“Who cares?” Ron shrugged, “It's only Malfoy.”

 

_______________________

  
  


“There is something we need to discuss, Miss Granger,” Snape immediately closed his book and set it aside when Hermione entered their chambers that evening.

Setting down her bag, the girl looked at her professor, “Sir?”

“Before throwing a fit, listen to everything I have to say; do you remember yesterday evening?”

Hermione blushed furiously, “Yes, of course.”

Snape nodded slightly, “Tell me what you recall.”

“I - what? Why?”

“Humor me.”

“Well, I had put on that burn potion you gave me - although not very well, because you had to smooth it out, and you started acting weird - no offense - and then you...you...y-you kissed me...again.”

The wizard nodded one solemn nod, “That's everything you remember? Nothing else?”

“Why?  What happened?” Hermione suddenly grew angry, “ _ Should I remember something else? _ ”

“Only if you were paying very close attention,” Snape shrugged, “I must admit I cast a spell on you, Miss Granger.”

The girl jumped back, “ _ What did you  _ do  _ to me _ ?”

“Please; nothing sinister, I assure you,” Snape rolled his eyes slightly, “However, judging from this morning’s paper, I made the proper decision.”

“ _ Excuse  _ **_me_ ** ?”

“Sit.” 

Hermione didn't.

“The proposed law will not pass, I can assure you,” Snape said, “The Ministry was debating between one of two laws; the article regarding the Muggle-Born Reproductive Restriction is an attempt to ameliorate the passage of a different law.”

The girl sat heavily on the sofa, “What law?”

“You will find out within the next day or so.”

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, “Fine.  So what does that have to do with your using some spell on me?”

“Ah,” he sounded almost as though it had slipped his mind, “I simply made you immune to any non-medicinal potions.”

“Okay...why?”

“Discussion time is over.  Oh, and Miss Granger, I suggest you read any and all articles in The Daily Prophet about the Ministry’s activities entirely and thoroughly.”

 

Although she wanted to know more about whatever Snape knew, Hermione could see he was in no mood to discuss it, so she stood and slowly approached the wizard; his shoulders were rigid and his mouth a thin, tight line.   She looked down to the seated man and sighed, “Professor, you seem to be very stressed...is there anything I can do?” 

Hermione nervously licked her lips, mustered her courage, and reached to smooth the tight knot between Snape’s eyebrows with her thumb.  She didn’t know if she was allowed to touch him - after all, he had initiated any physical contact other than her rash patting of his hand after he had pulled her from the exploding cauldron.  

When Snape didn’t protest, she ran her thumb up and down the crease between his eyebrows, slowly persuading it to lessen.  The wizard closed his eyes and made a quiet grunt.  Hermione stepped a bit closer, so she wouldn’t have to stretch her arm as far; when she was stationed with her knee a mere inch from his, Snape gradually took hold of her hand, softly, and guided it down to his lips.  The wizard lightly kissed her palm then softly kissed the pads of her fingers before drawing her pointer into his mouth, just as he had fantasized of doing a few weeks prior.

Frozen in shock, Hermione swallowed thickly then coughed quietly.  Snape’s eyes opened, but he did not release her hand as he looked up at the girl.

Abandoning any reservations she had, Hermione smirked, “I do believe that should be the other way around.”  She took his hand in hers and, deliberately keeping eye contact with him, sucked his middle finger into her mouth.  Snape forgot about his task and gave another grunt as she pulled his digit farther between her lips.  

Hermione let her eyes remain locked on his as she languidly pulled his finger out of her mouth.  When his hand was free, Snape reached for hers, holding it thoughtfully.  Hermione decided to up her brazenness and sat on his lap, straddling him; it was the professor who was shocked that time, but he certainly wasn’t going to object, although he made a vow to himself not to let things get out of hand.  

The girl pressed her mouth to his, eager for another kiss.  Snape earnestly reciprocated, his tongue dancing with hers as he held her hips to steady her.  

“Professor…” the girl breathed, moving her lips to what bit of his neck she could get to with his cravat in the way.  Hermione wanted access to the man’s neck, which he hid from everyone; she didn’t want to be everyone to him.    _ Where is this coming from?  This is  _ **_Snape_ ** _!  You’re straddling,  _ **_straddling_ ** _ , Snape!  He’s so cold and harsh and here you are wanting to be something special to him?   _

But he wasn’t cold and harsh to her anymore; he was kind and warm(ish).  

Hermione fumbled a bit with the button, but quickly removed the neckpiece and undid the first two or so buttons of his tunic and returned her lips to the skin, drawing her tongue over it slowly.

Snape’s hand drifted from her hips onto her outer thighs and barely under the hem of her skirt, while the other took Hermione’s face and brought her mouth back to his.  

The girl sighed, relaxing and her body lowered so that the crotch of her panties was against Snape’s trousers, which were concealing a solid erection.  When Hermione lowered, Snape’s hand had inadvertently slid higher up her thigh.  

_ This has to stop. _

The wizard removed his hand and slowly ended the kiss.

 

Hermione frowned at him, feeling foolish, “Did I do something?”

Snape shook his head silently, trying to will himself to calm.

“What’s wrong?”

The wizard sighed, “This.”

Insulted, Hermione hurried to stand, “ _ What? _ ”

“Miss Granger, I may not be the most learned in affairs of the heart, but I know enough that I assure you, you do not want to continue this.”

Hermione frowned, “You really want to know what I think?  Look for yourself; I know you’re a Legilimens!   _ Look! _ ”

Sighing once again, Snape peered into the girl’s mind, the images being seen by the girl as well as the professor.  

_ Hermione was 12, locked in a bathroom stall after Ron had been so horrible, anger and loneliness overcoming her.  She was 13, swooning over Lockhart, silly flitting in her stomach.  She was 14, disappointment constant as her newly-tamed hair had gone unnoticed by even her best friends and that the new, young and kind Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had hardly noticed her subtle flirtations.  She was 15, sobbing on her bed in Gryffindor Tower, still wearing her Yule Ball dress.  She was in the library with Viktor Krum, her stomach in knots with anticipation of a hand touch or a kiss.  She was 16, intense fire in her stomach as she was faced with Snape, his hand sliding from top of hers. _

 

Embarrassed, Hermione separated her awareness from what he was looking at; after a minute, she felt him back out of her thoughts suddenly.

“ _ See? _ ”  

“It doesn’t matter,” Snape said solemnly, almost glumly, “You’re young - much too young to be... _ engaging _ with me.”

Hermione nodded once, feeling as though he wasn’t being one hundred percent truthful - something was going on.

“Or anyone else,” he added to himself, “But what do I know?  I’m not  _ esteemed  _ enough to have a counted opinion.”


	9. New Laws and New Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds out exactly what this new law is that the Ministry is implementing, and tries to deal with the situations that will arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY FOR THE LONG LAPSE!   
> Many things have gotten in the way, and I sincerely apologize; I'll try to not let it happen again. Thanks for sticking in there!

Hermione read every word of every article in The Daily Prophet \- taking Snape’s advice a bit too much to heart - for the next three days, but no new law was mentioned. She was beginning to doubt Snape’s inside knowledge, but he was validated Monday morning when the newspapers arrived at breakfast, about a third of the owls also carrying thick envelopes, Hermione’s included. The girl set the envelope aside while she unrolled the paper to read the front page.

 

** Muggle-Born Marriage Mandate **

 

Hermione’s jaw dropped; this was it - this was the law Snape had been referring to. She read the article quickly.

 

 

** Muggle-Born Marriage Mandate **

Passing by a landslide vote last week, the Muggle-Born Marriage Mandate will replace the previously proposed law limiting Muggle-Borns’ allowed number of offspring; many thought legislation restricting reproductive rights was an overstep in the government’s power.

 

In replacement of the aforementioned law, the Muggle-Born Marriage Mandate is being referred to by officials as ‘a revolutionary step in maintaining the integrity of wizardkind’, as the hope is to reduce the occurrence of Squib children, who inevitably suffer greatly throughout their lives.

 

The Muggle-Born Marriage Mandate will require all Muggle-Born witches and wizards to bind themselves through marriage to a witch or wizard of Pureblood or Half-Blood status by the age of sixteen, as a precautionary measure to prevent a child of lesser blood status.

 

_All Muggle-Borns will receive an envelope with further details._

 

 

Hermione felt as though the floor had suddenly dropped into the lowest of the dungeons, but she managed to maintain her outward composure; she slowly opened the envelope that had accompanied the newspaper. Inside was a stack of seven pages, neatly creased together. 

The first several pages were merely legal information, citing instances throughout history that had given the Ministry legal ability to govern marriages: the outlawing of unions between those who were any more closely related than third cousins (apparently in the 40s, in a sweeping effort of more powerful families to keep the Pureblood line, marriages between close relatives was quite common); in the 50s legislation permitting couples of different blood statutes to marry; in ‘65, when the age at which a witch or wizard was allowed to marry was set at sixteen.

Apparently, these previous laws set the precedent for the Muggle-Born Marriage Mandate.

The fourth page informed Hermione that she was required to wed within sixty days, as she was already over the age that was the cutoff for marriage. She was overwhelmed with nausea; the closest thing to a relationship she had had was with Viktor, and she had gone into it knowing that it was a lost cause because of the distance and his fame; and then there was Ron, who she had casually dated off and on, but she had always known he was a lost cause. And now she _had_ to get married within sixty days? She wouldn’t even consider beginning to think of marriage that early into a relationship. Now she was expected to _find, date, **and marry**_ someone in two months!

 The fifth page was a technical page:

 

 

In order to make this process smoother, we have provided you with a list of some of the eligible wizards who meet the required criteria and are in relatively close proximity to your location.

 

We strongly suggest you consider each one while remembering that the marriage is a legally binding agreement, and that your chosen match will be your spouse, and that your nuptials must be in the form of an Unbreakable Vow.

 

 

_Please see next page for a list of the ten wizards who you may choose from._

****

_You have the option to request a day during which these wizards will gather so that you may meet them in-person._

 

 

Hermione couldn’t believe this! Not only was she expected to marry someone - most likely someone she’d never met - but the Ministry was telling her she had to choose someone _they_ approved?

 

She sighed. _Well, let’s see who my potential suitors are._

Turning the page apprehensively, the girl felt as though she were observing herself, watching from a short distance away as she let the previous page fall over onto the stack of the others she had just read.

 

** Eligible Wizards **

We have determined, based on your location and age, that the following ten wizards meet the requirements and are unattached:

_Brian Yaxley, 42, Pureblood_

_Kenneth MacMillan, 34, Half-Blood_

_Lucius Malfoy, 42, Pureblood_

 

 

The girl grew enraged when she reached Lucius Malfoy’s name; standing quickly, Hermione spilled her orange juice, nearly knocked over Ginny, and bolted from the Great Hall.

_How can this be happening? What gives them the right to dictate who I marry? When did it become acceptable for the government to demand she spend her life with someone she hadn’t even met - or worse, someone she had met, like Lucius Malfoy, who was a despicable human being that hated Muggle-Borns?_

Fleeing from everyone, Hermione headed to the only place she was certain would provide solitude: the chambers she shared with Snape. Once there, she tore off her cloak, tossed the group of papers onto the end table and threw herself face down onto the sofa. Hermione knew she shouldn’t miss class, but right now, she had bigger concerns than attendance.

 

Hermione didn’t go to a single class that day, and only moving from the sofa to use the restroom. Her stomach groaned loudly, complaining over the missed breakfast, which she hadn’t even touched. After skipping lunch, the grumbles of her belly turned to avid protests and then became threats of violence around dinnertime. Hermione supposed she would have to eat _something,_ so she went to the bathroom to splash icy water on her face, put her cloak back on, and headed for the Great Hall.

 

_______________________

 

“Did you go to _any_ of your classes today, Hermione?” Harry asked over his quickly disappearing lamb chop.

The girl pushed a single pea back toward the group on her plate and made a face, “Huh. Oh, I guess I didn’t. I’m sure by now you’ve heard all about this ridiculous law and I – ”

“Yeah, Padma’s already been asked to marry a guy in Bristol,” Harry nodded.

 Ron shoveled another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth, “She’s not too shaken up ‘bout it, though; according to her he’s ‘ _dreamy’,_ but Parvati has to marry some bloke who didn’t even finish his third year at Hogwarts.” 

Hermione sighed heavily. This apparently reminded the boys that she, too, would have to marry someone. It seemed as though they had forgotten she was Muggle-Born. 

Harry appeared sheepish, “Right. Sorry, Hermione. I – uh, I guess…ah…hey, wanna marry me? I’m _technically_ Pureblood.”

“Hey! No way; your mom was Muggle-Born, Harry,” Ron jumped in, “My family’s Pureblood going back generations. Whaddya say you marry me?”

“Hermione, I’m ‘ _The Boy Who Lived_ ’; Ron’s the ‘ _guy who knows The Boy Who Lived_ ’ – obviously, I’m the better choice,” Harry joked.

Giving him a fake glare, Ron argued, “Exactly; people will always be tryin’ to kill your husband. No one wants to murder me.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at her friends ‘fighting’ over her, “Thanks, guys, but I have a list of wizards I have to choose from, and as far as I know, neither of you are on there.”

“ _As far as you know_? How do you not know?” Harry asked.

Hermione made a face, “Well…I didn’t actually read the whole list; I got to Malfoy’s dad and stopped.” 

“Good call,” Ron commented. 

“Malfoy’s _dad_?” Harry frowned, “Isn’t he married to Malfoy’s _mom_?”

Hermione shrugged dismissively, “Maybe they got a divorce.”

“Or maybe he killed her,” Ron said.

“Don’t choose him, ‘Mione; maybe he murders his wives,” Harry gave her a stern look.

“Don’t worry; I’d _never_ choose him.”

 

 

_______________________

 

After supper, Hermione returned to the chambers she and Snape shared, shed her cloak and laid on the couch, leaning her head back against the arm. She slipped off her trainers, and ran one of the quills Snape had gotten her through her fingers, idly thinking about the new law.

Snape entered, saw her, and sighed heavily, “Miss Granger. You were not in my class today…and, according to the other staff, you were not in any of your classes today.” He took a moment to hang his cloak up, “I assume your absence was because of the troubling news this morning?"

“This is what you were talking about,” she said quietly and hoarsely, “You knew.”

“I was not aware of the details, but yes, I knew you would soon be forced to marry someone,” he sat on the sofa across from her.

“This is why you stopped…when we were kissing…”

 Snape nodded once and looked at her, “How disappointing are your options?”

 The girl frowned, “Well, there’s someone probably related to Ernie MacMillan, a guy named…Br – Brian, I think…Yaxley, and, Professor, Malfoy’s _father_ is on there! I thought…isn’t he married to Draco’s mom?”

“Narcissa Malfoy happened upon a rather nefarious cursed object, which caused her death about a week ago; I had no idea Lucius would… _move on_ so quickly.”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Hermione grumbled, “It’s not as though I’d even consider him.”

Snape gave a very faint smirk before inquiring, “Any other wizards I’d know?”

 Sighing heavily, the girl sat up, “I…I didn’t read any more than that. I was so mad that I just couldn’t handle it; I’m still really shaken up over everything.”

“Quite understandable,” Snape noticed that, indeed, the fingers holding the quill were trembling slightly, causing the feather to quiver; he stood, “I think a cup of tea would settle your nerves somewhat.”

Hermione watched as the wizard left for his little kitchen and smiled to herself; who would have thought that the stern, brooding wizard of the dungeons was actually kind enough to make tea to quell her nerves?

In a moment, Snape was back, a tray bearing a tea kettle, a saucer of sugar cubes, creamer, and two tea cups setting on saucers; it was a humorous sight to see – the wizard clad entirely in black, buttoned-up, with dark hair and dark eyes carrying something as delicate as a tea set. Hermione couldn’t help but giggle as he re-entered the room.

Snape eyed her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as he set the tray on the coffee table before sitting at her side on the long couch, “Something amuses you?”

Hermione tried not to laugh by pressing her lips together and shaking her head, “No, nothing.”

Giving her another look of skepticism, the wizard asked, “How do you take your tea?”

The girl covered her mouth to conceal the grin she couldn’t hold back, “Two sugars and a splash of milk.”

Snape made a cup of tea for Hermione and handed her the saucer and small cup; she thanked him and took a drink then watched him make his own. When he had put three sugars and a generous splash of milk in his tea, Snape leaned back against the couch. The wizard lifted the small cup to his lips and took a sip, his pinkie finger slightly in the air; Hermione couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight; she set her tea down to prevent spilling it as she laughed heartily.

“What on Earth are you laughing at?”

Hermione giggled, “You. I mean, you lift your pinkie when you drink the tea.”

“Forgive me for doing things _properly_ ,” Snape replied drolly.

"You are kind of cute, Severus Snape,” Hermione said and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I disagree with this assessment,” Snape remarked then looked at her, “And do you think it wise to go about kissing men when you’re soon to marry another?”

The girl made a disapproving face, “I’m not ‘ _going about’_ kissing ‘ _men_ ’; I kissed your cheek once. Just you. Once.” She pressed her lips to his cheek again, “Twice.” Hermione looked smug.

Snape rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“ _And,_ ” Hermione added, “It was only on your cheek; it’s not like I – ” 

Stopping her mid-sentence, Snape crashed his mouth to hers, grasping her face in his hands. His tongue explored her mouth, danced against her own, and brushed on the roof of her mouth. Hermione felt one of his hands slide from her jawline to the side of her neck, then beneath her hair onto the back of her neck as he lightly bit her lower lip.

Snape leaned toward the girl, gradually lying her back on the couch; his mouth moved to her jaw, then her neck, hungrily but slowly kissing the flesh. Hermione held the back of his cloak and sighed. The professor’s hand slowly lowered to her breast, cupping and lightly squeezing it almost curiously.   As he felt her small mound through her shirt, Snape’s lips travelled onto the front of her neck; trying to give him better access, Hermione leaned her head back. This caused her back to arch slightly, moving her chest closer to him; Snape gave a low growl and slid his hand under her shirt to experience her breasts again. The girl squirmed slightly, the wizard’s fingers touching the flesh just above the top of her bra giving her pleasant goosebumps.   At this, Snape drew his tongue up from her clavicle, over her throat, and back to the side of her neck.

When his hand pushed her bra up off her chest and massaged the flesh, Hermione sighed, intoxicated by the feel of his thumb flicking over her nipple. Snape pressed closer to her, and Hermione felt his solid arousal against her hip. He slid his arm under her back and lifted her enough to unclasp her bra and remove her shirt before letting her fall back onto the cushions and continuing his actions; Snape ravenously kissed the front of Hermione’s neck, slowly lowering his mouth onto her breast. As he licked her nipple and kissed her mound, Hermione arched into his mouth and moaned softly; the wizard instinctively pressed himself against her. 

Snape returned to kiss his student’s neck, fiddling with one of the pink buds on her chest. Hermione unbuttoned the top few buttons of Snape’s frock coat, then the shirt underneath; she ran her hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, excited by this, since she knew it was very personal to him. She hesitantly lowered her hand to the bulge in the front of his trousers, sliding her fingers down into the back of his shirt as she held his stiffness.

The wizard groaned at her action and squeezed her breast. Hermione lightly bit his bottom lip, and stroked him through his pants; Snape let his hand drift over her stomach, down onto her thigh, and ran it up the side, taking time to appreciate the softness of her skin. Snape’s hand found its way under the material of her skirt, venturing up the outer side of her thigh; his fingers traced the hem of the hip of her panties. Hermione lightly squeezed his rod.

“Lift your hips,” Snape breathed into her neck; Hermione did so, and he tugged down the undergarment. 

Nervous, the girl chewed the inside of her lip; she had never gone this far with anyone. When Snape’s fingers touched her, Hermione relaxed; he wasn’t insistent or aggressive.

He felt her body, gently tracing the folds and massaging her bead. Snape dipped his finger down toward her opening, relishing the slickness of her body. As his digit made its way back toward the slit, Hermione held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of pain.

The man looked at her, his hand still, “You’ve never been touched, have you?”

Hermione suddenly felt very foolish and much like a child; her throat tightened and tears of embarrassment stung her eyes as she shook her head.

 Snape removed his hand, kissed the girl softly, then sat up.

“Pr – Professor?” her voice was quivering, both from nervousness, and imminent tears.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, “You – you are innocent; your first…experience of _any_ kind like that should not be with one man when you are about to marry another.”

Hermione sat up and pulled her shirt back on, not responding to him.

“And it should most certainly be with someone you care about,” Snape added.

The girl swallowed the lump in her throat, “Professor, what makes you think I don’t care about you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this idea of a law requiring marriage has been done before, but I actually thought of it before ever reading a story involving it.
> 
> Also, when I finish this story, I will write the one that I initially planned when I first had the idea of the marriage law, so, once this is done, be on the lookout for it!


	10. Eligible Wizards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter, but it needed to end where it does.

Hermione, not wanting to think about the law, focused intensely on her studies - even more intensely than usual. Once all of her assignments for all of her classes were done for the next two weeks, she decided to distract herself by writing lengthy letters to her mother, father, and both of her sets of grandparents.

Although this took her mind off her troubles, by the end of the week , Hermione regretted doing it all so quickly.

Scrawling the last answer on her final assignment, Hermione sighed with defeat and stood from the desk.

Snape, who was sitting in his chair, eyed her; the pair had been rather formal with each other since the encounter in the beginning of the week, but the memory of it seemed to have caused a closer understanding of one another, and yet an awkward atmosphere. He still didn’t like the situation the girl was in, and, surprisingly, not merely because it was a blockade between them l

He cleared his throat, “Have you run out of things to occupy yourself with?”

Hermione rubbed her forehead, strain obvious in her body language, “Yeah. I - I guess I should try and pick the least-wretched wizard on that list now.”

She found the stack of papers, sat heavily on the sofa, and grumbled to herself. Flipping immediately to the list of eligible wizards, she learned back into the sofa with a sigh of resignation.

_Brian Yaxley, 42, Pureblood_  
Kenneth MacMillan, 34, Pureblood  
Lucius Malfoy, 42, Pureblood   
Travis Nott, 38, Half-Blood  
Evan Selwyn, 36, Pureblood   
Percival Prewett, 37, Half-Blood  
Phineass Travers, 40, Half-Blood   
Severus Snape, 36, Half-Blood   
Carter Vector, 37, Pureblood   
Terrance Figg, 41, Half-Blood

 

  
Hermione swallowed thickly, her face going pale, “Pr - Professor…”

Snape looked up from his book, “Yes?”

“Did you know your...um, Professor, your name is - your name is on this list.”

“Nonsense,” he said dismissively, “And I would have thought you were able to think of a more clever way to have a go at me, Miss Granger.”

“I’m not joking, sir; your name is on this list,” she insisted.

Narrowing his dark eyes, the wizard stood, “Rubbish,” he went to his student, “Let me see that.”

She stood, giving him the paper; as he looked it over, Hermione chewed her lip; she hoped the man would agree to this; she didn’t know any of the other men besides Lucius Malfoy.

Snape silently returned the paper to her, avoiding looking at Hermione; he walked away from her and stood at his tiny bar. She heard the stopper of a decanter be removed and glass clinking.

“Professor?”

Snape sighed; Hermione heard the stopper be returned violently before the wizard turned back to face her, “No.”

She furrowed her brow, “No? No what? I didn’t ask you anything.”

“You were going to, Miss Granger,” Snape spoke matter-of-factly.

“What was I going to ask?”

“You were going to ask if I would agree to this,” he said, “You were going to ask if I would marry you. The answer is no, Miss Granger.”

Hermione inhaled slowly, trying to keep herself calm, “Professor, you are the only one on here that I know - besides Mister Malfoy - I don’t want to marry someone I’ve never met; they could be a psychopath! Please!”

“My answer will not change,” Snape said firmly, “No. I will not marry you.”


	11. Decisions, Decisions

“So,” Harry said quietly from across the table in the library a few days later, “Surely you’ve looked at the list you were given by now, right?”

Hermione sighed softly, “Yes.”

“So?” Ron asked, “How’s it look?”

The girl frowned, “Not good; but, then how could anything about this even _be_ good?”    

She hadn’t wanted to think about it for a while, but now she desperately needed to talk it out, “I hardly recognized anyone on it, and they’re all quite a bit older than me, but that’s probably because The Ministry doesn't want any more students getting married than ‘ _necessary'_.  Here, I’ll show you.”  

After retrieving the paper from her bag, Hermione read from it, “Brian Yaxley is 42, and so is Malfoy’s dad, Kenneth MacMillan - he’s 34 - Terrance Figg, 41, a Carter Vector, who is 37 - ”

“Hey, I bet that’s Professor Vecor’s son,” Ron cut in.

Harry nodded, “Yeah and I bet that Kenneth guy is Ernie’s ‘Uncle Ken’ who gave him his old broomstick.”

“Can we focus?” Hermione asked.

“ ‘Course, Hermione; sorry,” Harry apologized as he took the parchment from her; he looked it over; after a minute, he looked back at her, “This can’t be right, Hermione.  I mean, they wouldn’t suggest _a teacher!”_

_“What?”_ Ron asked, “Who?”

“Snape,” Harry answered.

“You’re kidding! That old bat?”

Hermione thought about her encounters with the wizard and felt a pleasant shiver up her spine.  She recalled how kind he had been when she was stressed over the law, and the sweet gesture of making her tea; Hermione decided she didn’t like Ron talking about him like that.

“Lay off him, Ron; he’s not all bad.   **And** , he _is_ the youngest teacher here.”

“You’re right that he’s the youngest , Hermione, but, come on; he’s awful,” Harry replied.

Snatching the paper out of his hand, Hermione stood and grabbed her bag, “You two just don’t like him because he’s Head of Slytherin and doesn’t let you get away with your goofing off!”  She left in a huff, leaving the boys to watch her walk out of the library, bewildered by her sensitivity to insults toward the Potions Master.

 

_______________________

 

“You summoned me, Headmaster?” Snape approached the wizard, “And why to this room, I don’t know.”

Dumbledore removed his spectacles, studied them for a moment, then returned them to his crooked nose, “I required a room in which our discussion would not, under any circumstances, be overheard; clearly, The Room of Requirement can meet this need.”

With difficulty, Snape refrained from rolling his eyes, “What is it you wish to discuss that _requires_ such secrecy?”

The older wizard walked casually to a corner of the room, where two comfortable chairs on a small rug had been provided by the room; Dumbledore sat, gesturing for Snape to do the same.

Once both wizards were seated, the Headmaster spoke conversationally, “I do hope the arrangement with Miss Granger staying in your chambers is going well.”

Snape raised his eyebrows in response.

“Surely news of the law is troubling to her.”

The younger wizard narrowed his dark eyes, “Troubling?   _Troubling,_ Albus?  The weather is troubling; being required to marry anyone is unthinkable - being required to marry someone you’ve never met is reprehensible.”

Dumbledore frowned, “She is residing in your chambers; she has clearly met you.  And, if I’m not mistaken - and I rarely am - your name just so happens to be on her list.  It seems perfect, doesn’t it?  Quite convenient.”

“Albus, surely you’re not suggesting - are you?”

The single nod had barely begun before Snape growled, “Absolutely not.  I hardly believe you would even think of it.  It is ridiculous.  I told her no, and I am telling you no; it is out of the question!”

Wiry eyebrows raising, Dumbledore spoke, “Miss Granger asked you?”

“Yes,” Snape replied, “I was ‘ _the only one on the list she knows besides Lucius Malfoy’_ ”

“And you rejected her request?”

“Of course I did. I want no part in this law; I will not have Miss Granger forced to marry me, no matter how _convenient_ it is.”

 

_______________________

 

A rather uncomfortable ten days passed, Hermione and Snape hardly looking at one another, the rejected request looming in the air along with a strange electricity, leftover from the heated encounter on the sofa.

After having attempted several times to seriously discuss her plight with Harry and Ron, only to be faced with jokes and less-than-helpful suggestions (like one of the boys constantly drinking Polyjuice Potion to become one of the wizards on her list), Hermione needed to talk it out with someone - anyone.

Finishing her last homework assignment, Hermione put her book back in the satchel on the floor and moved to the sitting room, where Snape was reading a book.  She unfolded the parchment with the list of wizards’ names and looked it over for roughly the fortieth time; Hermione noticed that, at the sound of the paper rustling, Snape’s eyes lifted to look at her over the pages of his book briefly.

The girl studied the list, though she didn’t know why - it wasn’t as though the names were going to change or that she would learn anything about the men by rereading their names - for at least ten minutes.  Hermione knew by the fact that Snape hadn’t turned a page that he was at least a bit distracted by her fretting.

“Um, Professor?” Hermione said timidly.

Immediately closing the book, Snape sat up straighter, “Yes?”

“Can...can I - can I talk to you...about - about this?” she stammered, “Oh, and, don’t - don’t worry...I’m not going to ask you again.  I realize that was stupid and I - I’m sorry.  But, well...I don’t know anyone on here, and, even though I’m meeting them Saturday, I was wondering if you had anything you could tell me about them - if you know any of them.”

“Certainly,” Snape stood, “Can I take another look?”

She handed the wizard the piece of paper as he sat on the couch next to her, his side up against hers; he looked it over for a few moments.  Hermione was, for some reason, elated that he was so close to her; it had felt like an eternity since they had even met each other’s eyes.  She scooted a bit and laid her head back, resting it in the wizard’s lap; he raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing and continued reading over the paper,  “Definitely not Yaxley - he’s as devout a Death Eater as they come, and Lucius isn’t much better...Nott is Half-Blood, but the whole lot of his father’s Pureblood side are elitists - ”  

“Elitist?” Hermione wrinkled her nose.  

“Travis is the result of a particularly embarrassing encounter his father had with _paid companionship_ \-  ”

The girl giggled, “A fancy lady?  I never thought about a courtesan’s ‘ _blood status’_ ; what does a wizard do?  Go up to a streetwoman and say ‘ _I need companionship, but first, were both your parents magical?_ ’ That’s absurd!”

Snape frowned slightly, “I wouldn’t know; I - ”

“You’d never ask her blood status,” Hermione teased, “Professor Snape is too proper to ask such questions,” she poked his ribcage playfully.

The wizard jumped slightly at her prod and glared softly down at her, ensnaring her wrist as she tried to stab him again, “Miss Granger.”

“Are you ticklish?” Hermione grinned mischievously, “You are!  You’re ticklish!”  She poked him with the hand he wasn’t restricting; Snape jumped more violently, causing Hermione to laugh heartily.

“Are you quite done?” the wizard asked, a bit exasperated.

She nodded.

“Good,” Snape said before returning to the list, “Selwyn’s father is responsible for at least four Muggle murders - it’s well-known Evan was involved...Carter Vector is a goon, even Septima knows it...and I’m afraid I don’t know much about the others.”

“Great!  You cut this list in half,” Hermione said, sitting up.

“Now you only have to choose from five,” Snape nodded.

Hermione looked at the paper and scratched off the ones Snape had discredited, “Four.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Now I only have to choose from four; you were one of the remaining five.”

“Ah,” the wizard gave a nod, looking slightly uncomfortable, “Miss Granger...in regards to that...I apologize; you must know I - ”

“No, I understand; I shouldn’t have assumed. _I’m_ sorry.”

“No need for apologies, Miss Granger,” Snape placed his hand on hers and pressed his lips to her forehead, “I will forgive your transgressions if you forgive mine.”

Hermione looked quizzically at him, “ _Your_ transgressions?  What do you mean?”

“I am well-aware of your impending nuptials, and I still…” he looked conflicted for a moment, gave her hand a light squeeze and kissed her forehead again before bringing his lips to hers briefly.

“Pr - Professor...I don’t understand…”  

_Why would he want to kiss me, when he clearly doesn’t want to marry me? When he’s perfectly fine with me marrying someone else?_

Snape smirked to himself; Legilimency was a wonderful skill.

“You don’t need to understand right now.”

“But I - ”

Hermione heard Snape swallow hard, “What did I _just say_ , Hermione?”

“That - that I don’t need to understand - wait, what?” _he had used her given name!_

He restrained a smile then kissed her once more, very slowly, the seconds stretching into minutes, leisurely brushing his lips against hers, his tongue only occasionally grazing her mouth.  Gradually, Snape’s hand moved back to rest on hers for a moment before sliding slightly down then smoothly up to lace their fingers.   

When he eventually retreated from her mouth, his hand remained, his fingers intertwined with hers; Snape looked at this for a long moment, his expression almost sad.

“Professor?”

He lifted his eyes to her face, but said nothing.


	12. Meeting Her Suitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione attends a gathering to meet her potential husbands.

Even though she wasn’t meeting her prospective husbands until the next afternoon, Hermione was filled with anxiety when she sat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast the next morning. 

“Hermione!” Ginny hurried to her side, “I  _ know  _ this whole thing sucks, but, since there’s not really anything we can do to change it, let’s meet it head-on; whaddya say we eat a really quick bite during lunch, then go plan out what you’re wearing tomorrow to meet the guys from your list?  You’ll look so gorgeous, all those losers will realize you’re  _ way  _ too good for them and they’ll be sending Unforgivable Curses at each other to get you!”

She didn’t really want anyone fighting over her - as though that would actually happen - but Hermione knew she would be extremely self-conscious when meeting her suitors, so she figured anything to boost her confidence was a good idea, “Okay, Gin; that sounds great!”   
  


The morning went just like any other morning - the lessons were predictable and challenging but not too difficult, her classmates just as uncommitted to their studies as usual - but Hermione felt as though she was shrouded by an ominous cloud of smoke.

At 11:30, Hermione sat next to the redheaded girl in the Great Hall and they both scarfed down a sandwich before rushing to Gryffindor Tower; once in the girls’ dormitory, Ginny dove through Hermione’s trunk, tossing sweaters to the floor and T-shirt’s into the corner.

“Hermione!  Do you have anything that won’t make you look like a stuffy librarian?”  Seeing her friend’s frown, Ginny added, “I mean, that’s great on you for school, but, think about it: tomorrow, you’ll be meeting  _ your husband  _ for the first time ever - you need to look fabulous and unforgettable!”

The older girl nodded, “You’re right; I didn’t think about it like that…” Hermione’s eyes scanned over the limited selection of clothes she had - nothing came close to being right for her meeting her potential husbands.

“Ginny…” she sighed miserably, very nearly distraught, “I don’t have anything.”

Ginny flicked her wand, returning the less-than-satisfactory clothes to Hermione’s trunk, then hurried to her own, opening it, “Pick anything you want.”

Hermione looked at the assortment of dresses, skirts, jeans, dress pants, and blouses, bright colors and darker, rich colors, shiny silks and satins, deep velvets and shapely polyester.  “Wow,” she breathed, “Where did you  _ get  _ all this?”

“Well, mum and dad don’t have a lot of money for the more stylish clothes, so I...I sort of taught myself how to transfigure some boring stuff into more...appealing clothes,” Ginny explained.

“ _ Really?  _ Ginny, that’s amazing!”

“Hermione, what else do you expect? It is  _ me  _ we’re talking about,” Ginny laughed. 

The girls spent the remainder of their lunch period searching for the right outfit for Hermione to wear the next day; she tried on several dresses before deciding a dress would be  _ too  _ dressy, a few pairs of nice pants paired with different colors and styles of tops, but Ginny commented that they all looked too “ _ stuffy librarian-ish”. _

“Ginny, we only have ten minutes left before next period!”

“Which is just enough time for you to try one more,” the redhead looked mischievous.

“No, Ginny; I said I wouldn’t be comfortable in that!”

“You  _ also  _ said you’d try it if you don’t find something else,” Ginny thrust the clothes toward Hermione, “You’re trying on almost everything I have; you  _ have  _ to try this.  For me?”

Snatching it from her hands good-naturedly, Hermione glared teasingly at her friend and changed, donning the clothing Ginny suggested.

“That’s it, Hermione! That’s what you need to wear tomorrow!” the redhead clapped her hands together, her eyes wide.

Looking at her reflection, Hermione nodded, “This is perfect; you’re right.”

Ginny scoffed, “You seem surprised.”

  
  


_______________________

  
  


“Shouldn’t you be preparing to meet your  _ suitors _ ?” Snape asked boredly as he turned a page of  The Daily Prophet ; Hermione had just returned from stopping by the library after lunch the following day.

“Shouldn’t  _ you  _ be preparing to meet  _ me _ ?” she quipped.

Standing from his chair, Snape gave a muted groan, “I’ve met you.  I daresay I could do no more to  _ impress  _ you, even if I wished to do so.  You may like to know an envelope came for you via the Floo Network a moment ago,” he handed the girl a small envelope and watched as she opened it.

Hermione quickly read the note before putting it back in the envelope, “Well, The Ministry is informing me that Brian Yaxley, Evan Selwyn, and Terrance Figg have been chosen by other girls, so they won’t be at the Ministry today.”

“It seems the choices are growing thin; you may consider selecting someone before all of your options are wed to someone else, Miss Granger.”

“Oh, it’s only three off my list, Professor.”

Snape gave a slightly derogatory smirk, “Yes, but these  _ meetings  _ with potential spouses are nearly constant; unfortunately, I must appear at another one tomorrow, as well.”

“Really?  Do you know how many lists you were on?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Snape said and from his tone it didn’t seem as though he cared to know.  “I’m leaving for the Ministry in a moment.”  He looked at her solemnly, seeing immense stress in her eyes.

Disbelief in what was looming turned to anger at the Ministry for making the law; the anger flowed through her, turning briefly to rage before becoming a feeling of victimization, which quickly became sadness when she was hit with the realization that she would now never get to experience the memorable moments in the relationship with a spouse - she would have no first date to look back on fondly, no romantic proposal, and the closest she would get to a wedding would be her forced into making an Unbreakable Vow in some Ministry courtroom.

Snape’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, “I will see you in London, Miss Granger.”

_______________________

 

Ginny had offered to help her get ready, but Hermione had declined; she hadn’t really believed she would need help, but the girl found that she was so overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions that she had trouble focusing enough to brush her teeth .  

Hermione flew into the Gryffindor girls’ dorm, “Ginny!  I know I said I didn’t need your help, but  **_I do_ ** !  Please!  Will you still help me?  I have an hour before I have to leave!”

Ginny immediately jumped off the floor, where she was doing homework, “Of course!” She grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her into the bathroom; Hermione showered in record time before letting Ginny attack her with makeup spells and hairstyling magic, telling the younger girl to keep things simple.

After donning the outfit they had chosen, Hermione left for London.

 

_______________________   
  


Arriving at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione began to feel nauseous, but forced the sensation down.  A kind Ministry woman who reminded Hermione of her first grade teacher in Muggle school evaluated her wand then pointed her the direction of the room she needed to go to; Hermione walked nervously through the Atrium to the lifts, then rode to the Fifth Level. 

_ ‘Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body _ _ , the International Magical Office of Law _ _ , and the International Confederation of Wizards’  _

Hearing the voice declare she had reached the right level, Hermione exited the elevator and stepped to the Floor Directory; she found the wing of The International Magical Office of Law and headed down the corridor, searching for Assembly Chamber Twenty-Seven, her heels clicking on the tile as she walked.

_ Assembly Chamber Twenty-Four, Assembly Chamber Twenty-Five, Assembly Chamber Twenty-Six, Assembly Chamber Twenty-Seven. _

Hermione sighed, fiddled with her necklace for a moment, then opened the door.

The room was very large, walls in muted colors, vacant of any windows, the floor lined with carpet several feet out from each of the four walls, the center of the room marble-floored - it was an odd, but not unpleasant style, numerous round tables and chairs were scattered on the carpeted sides of the room, giving the illusion that the center of the room was a dance floor, although no music played.

Most of the wizards were seated at tables, one or two polite conversations of small talk between them.  She recognized Lucius Malfoy right away, sitting with a dark-skinned man, both silent.  

A man with dark brown hair slicked back was looking particularly annoyed while a blonde wizard talked animatedly to him.  

The other wizards were sitting alone at various tables, one looking extremely nervous, another downright furious, scowling at the air.  Hermione saw Snape, standing at the edge of the room, leaning back against the wall, his cloak gone to leave him in his pants and tunic; it was extremely unnerving -  _ he was the only one she knew and he goes showing up in something other than his usual billowy robes?  So much for the comfort of at least one entirely familiar thing in the room. _

A wizard she hadn’t noticed before stepped toward the center of the room; he wore an exceedingly well-tailored suit and was clearly a Ministry Official, who introduced himself as Anthony Banner, “Now that the young witch you’ve all come to meet has arrived, I’d like to say a few things.”

Everyone looked at Hermione, who they apparently hadn’t noticed, as she had entered almost silently,  then turned their attention back to the Mr. Banner.  With their focus elsewhere, she took the time to girl surveyed the men again, her gaze flitting from one to the next, to the next, hoping to get an idea of their personalities by their body language.  Her eyes shifted to Snape and she was startled to see he was looking at her still.

She didn’t know why, but she blushed fiercely and looked away.  Snape smirked slightly and continued observing the girl; she had traded her school-issued uniform for a black circle skirt that fell a couple inches above her knees and a royal blue backless blouse.  Her usual poofy hair had been tamed into a loose braid, a few wispy sections falling around her face.  

Snape tried to pay attention to Mr. Banner, who was still talking to everyone, but he couldn’t pull his dark eyes from Hermione.

Hermione walked quietly to an unoccupied table and sat at it.

While the Official droned on, Snape stealthily walked toward her, approaching from behind; she didn’t hear him getting closer until he bent slightly to whisper into her ear, “You look stunning, Miss Granger.”

Hermione jumped slightly before looking at him, “Th - thank you.”

“I must admit, though -”

Mr. Banner concluded his routine and flicked his wand, magicking a refreshment table in the center of the non-dance floor, then left the room. 

Apparently, each wizard had been advised to bring a paper or two giving their basic information and anything they wanted Hermione to know about themselves.

The man with the slicked back hair approached Hermione, giving Snape a scolding look.  ‘ _ Points from you.’  _ Hermione thought as Snape left.

“Phineas Travers; nice to meet you,” he held out his hand; she shook it, uncomfortable with the formality; he was very businesslike — over-the-top businesslike.  Hermione made polite, casual conversation with him for a few minutes (a few minutes too long, if she was honest) before he handed her a sheet of paper and walked away.  

Hardly a moment passed before Percival Prewett introduced himself and sat down, “A lot of men have been complaining about attending these functions, but I figure that it’s much worse for you - all these strangers vying for your attention; it’s basically an ambush.”

Hermione chuckled a bit and engaged in a friendly conversation with him.

Percival was the most pleasant of the men who followed, and then the blonde wizard who had irritated Travers plopped down into the chair beside her, “Kenneth MacMillan.  It’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Granger.  Do you follow ESUK - the Exploding Snap UK League?”

“Wha - I don’t know - ” Hermione started, but Kenneth talked over her.

“You should check it out; it’s top-notch.  I tried to make the League once, but my brother had used my last Sphinx Spade to build a card castle, so when I got to the trials, I didn’t have anything to beat the Mischievous Bowtruckle Attack.”

He was speaking so quickly and frantically that, as superior as her brain was, Hermione couldn’t keep up.

“It’s okay, though, because my cousin Lee is  **definitely** going to make it to the finals next year!  That’s so cool, am I right?”

Hermione forced a smile and excused herself; she needed a a cup of the punch that Mr. Banner had manifested.  She walked to the refreshment table on the in the center of the room, which Snape was standing beside.  Hermione got herself a glass of the drink and headed back toward a table.  As she turned, her high heel lost traction and Hermione careened forward; someone gripped her upper arm and she felt a hand seize her waist from behind.  She was pulled back against a solid torso as the wizard steadied her.  Hermione could tell from the slightly calloused but still soft skin that it was Snape who’d caught her; too rushed to consider the style of her shirt, his hand had clutched to the bare skin of her waist. 

“You really ought to be more careful, Miss Granger,” Snape breathed into her ear. He moved away from his student, but kept his hand on her waist, “You wouldn’t want to speak with all  _ but one _ of your suitors, would you?”

Hermione realized that Snape was, indeed, the only wizard there that she hadn’t actually talked to.  She carefully walked back to a table, Snape following.

“Maybe I saved the best for last,” she joked, sitting in the chair Snape pulled out for her.

“Indeed,” he sat, as well.

“It only makes sense,” Hermione leaned closer toward him, “I mean, we both know I’m going home with you,” she teased.

Snape leaned quickly back away from her, raising his eyebrows, “I beg your pardon?”

She giggled at his reaction, deciding to see how far she could go before he caught on, “I thought it was obvious.  That we understood that I was going with you, taking off my clothes, and we’d both go to bed.”

“Miss  _ Granger _ , I thought  _ you  _ understood that I won’t be the one to cross that line with you when you’re about to marry someone,” his voice was tense and strained.

“Professor, what are you talking about?  I’m staying in your chambers, remember?” she asked innocently.   “I’ll go to bed, and you’ll go to bed.  How horribly  _ presumptuous  _ of you to think I meant anything else,” Hermione enjoyed Snape’s reaction to her chiding; a faintly crimson flush had risen just above his collar and into his jawline.

“Damn you, girl,” he growled, stretching his hand, “I have no doubt you did that on purpose.”

She shrugged and took a sip of her punch before falling into comfortable conversation with her professor.  

Hermione and Snape were still engaged in discussion when Anthony Banner returned to the room, “We’re about to wrap up, so, again, please be sure to give Miss Granger your papers before you leave; thank you all for coming.”  When he saw that everyone had heard him, Mr. Banner spoke again, directly to Hermione, “Miss Granger, I do hope everything today went well.  You are advised to make your decision within the next fortnight, so that, in case your selected wizard has been chosen by another, you have ample time to reconsider your options.”

“Yes, I understand, thank you, Mister Banner,” Hermione nodded, “And what do I do once I’ve decided?”

“Well, you would contact the wizard, ensure that he is agreeable, and secure the arrangement.  This contract must, quite literally, be sealed with a kiss.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you, sir,” Hermione said before leaving.

_______________________

 

The girl was so relieved to get back to Hogwarts and the chambers in the dungeons that she slipped out of her black heels and sat on the long couch, too overwhelmed to bother changing.

Snape emerged from his bedroom, still sans cloak, and sat at on the couch as well, a cushioned seat separating them, “Have you made your decision?”

“No,” Hermione said, “It’s not that easy - I mean, look,” she retrieved the stack of papers, which she had tucked into the crevice of the arm of the couch; as she twisted, her back was prominently displayed to Snape, whose eyes traced the musculature beneath her smooth skin and lingered on the flesh of her side that was revealed.  He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.

Hermione turned back, rifling through sheets of paper, “Look at this!  Phineas Travers collects heads of House Elves his family has had!  Percival Prewett was the nicest, but he seemed  _ too  _ nice, so much that it seemed almost fake,  _ and  _ it says here he has  _ three  _ kids!  No thank you.  And Kenneth MacMillan - get this - all he talked about was Exploding Snap.”

“Seriously?”

“He’s apparently  _ very  _ enthusiastic about it,” Hermione said, “He has  **four** pages here with every competition he’s even entered.”

Snape extended his hand, asking to see the paper, which she passed to him.

His black eyes flitted over the pages for a minute before he looked at his student, “That settles it, Miss Granger; you have to choose Mister MacMillan.”

“What?  What are you talking about?”

“He is quite obviously the superior choice,” Snape said, a deadpan expression on his face, “He took First Place in the Regional Exploding Snap...Pee-Wee League...last year.”

Hermione exploded with laughter, “Are you joking?  Oh my god!  He was thirty-three!”  Her raucous laughing continued, “I can’t breathe.  Why would - he even - enter a - a children’s comp - competition?”

“I hardly think that’s a more valid question than why  _ on earth  _ he would be so proud that he put it on this paper - as though it were an accomplishment.”

Hermione continue to laugh for a long while, Snape silently watching her.

When she had calmed down, the girl wiped tears from her eyes and looked back at the papers, “Mister Malfoy was downright rude and Carter Vector really  _ was  _ a goon; he was basically ogling me the entire time we were talking -  ”

“Could you honestly blame the man?” Snape spoke quietly, “You really were stunning.”

The girl blushed furiously, turning slightly away to hide her flushing face.

His fingers traced down her spine and rested at the small of her back as he brought his lips to barely brush his lips on the skin between her scapula, briefly kissing her, “Breath-taking.”

Hermione sighed at the touch and the warm air his words breathed on her skin; she moved the smallest bit closer to him, looking over her shoulder to survey him.

Snape gave a restrained growl before suddenly assaulting the side of her neck with his mouth; he placed his hands on her waist, his skin hot and anxious.  Grabbing her, he pulled her backwards toward himself as he consumed her neck.  

His mouth pleasantly devouring her flesh, Hermione bit her lip and sighed, relaxing with her back against his chest.  Snape drew his tongue over her carotid then nibbled her earlobe.  When his hands slid up from her waist and around to grasp her petite breasts, Hermione moaned softly and let her own hand move behind herself, onto Snape’s thigh, desperate to touch him.

Snape palmed her breast, his mouth attempting to travel onto the front of her neck; Hermione leaned her head back onto his shoulder, granting him access.  This movement made her hand closer to its goal, and she was mere inches from his groin when Snape pulled his hand from beneath her shirt to grasp Hermione’s, stopping its northern trek, “No,” he breathed into her neck.

The girl groaned in frustration at her task being thwarted.

“I will cross no more lines, if you recall,” he said, ceasing his actions.

Hermione moved away from the wizard, defeated; she didn’t know why Snape had the effect on her that he did, but, any time she was in his presence, she wanted to be as close to him as possible - both physically and mentally.  He seemed irresistible to her.

Snape swallowed thickly, “There are so many obstacles; things are already... _ hard  _ enough without any more complications.”

Her eyes widened at his emphasis on that word, but perhaps she had imagined it, because the wizard was shuffling the various wizards’ papers, seeming very stoic, “Who else made an impression?” he passed her the papers.

Hermione read through each of them again, a frown growing on her face.

When she was halfway through them, she turned to pull her knees up in front of herself, leaning her back against Snape’s shoulder.

It was very strange that she could read over different men’s ‘credentials’ in pursuit of a husband when she was leaning on - both literally and figuratively - a different man for support in all this.  

Snape sat stiffly as the girl used his shoulder as a backrest, his mind clogged with various idiotic thoughts and numerous regrets, unable to do anything to change the situation he found himself having to endure.

“I don’t want to do this!” Hermione spoke suddenly, “I can’t.  Not only are these men grossly unappealing and I’d have to move so far away no matter who I pick -”

“Is a change in scenery really your biggest complaint about this law?”

Turning to sit properly on the couch, she leaned her head on Snape’s shoulder and quietly answered, “No.  The worst thing is that, no matter who I chose...it isn’t you.”


	13. A Disappointing Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is very short, but I promise to add another VERY soon, like, within the next day

“I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?” Snape finally responded after several long moments.

Hermione lifted her head from the wizard’s shoulder to look at him,”Professor, I - since I’ve been staying here with you...I’ve...well, I’ve learned things that show me you’re more than what everyone sees.”

Snape noticed that her cheeks were tinged with embarrassment; the effect was radiant.  He raised an eyebrow, indicating she should explain further.

Hermione gave a small smile, “I think that, maybe, I’ve gotten a glimpse under your ‘ _ dark, brooding, and harsh’  _ facade.”  Snape frowned as she continued,  “No one sees how kind you can be, how funny are, that you’re immensely clever.  No one gets past the mask you have to see that you’re caring and kind; no one sees that you’re good.”

Snape pulled his hand from his student’s and looked at his palms, “One cannot see what isn’t there.”

“Don’t do that,” she said.

The wizard’s jaw set, “You are naive, Granger.  You know nothing besides what you’ve seen in this castle; no amount of good deeds can atone for things in my past.  Some actions are unforgivable, and I have committed more than one.”

“Everyone makes mistakes; good people do bad things, and you, Professor, are a good person.”

Snape growled in frustration, “That is the opinion of a child, made with no knowledge of the loathsome deeds or vile betrayals.”

Hermione sighed, “Of course I don’t know about whatever you’ve done; you’ve _never told me_!  Tell me what you think is so horrible and let me come to my own conclusion!”

Knowing the stubborn girl would continue her pursuit of information until she gained it, Snape gritted his teeth and undid the first several buttons on the cuff of his tunic, then the two of the white shirt underneath.  He watched his fingers work then move to carefully and precisely fold up the black tunic sleeve before slowly doing the same for the long-sleeved undershirt reluctantly.  Snape’s black eyes rested with disgust on the Dark Mark branded on his forearm.  He looked at the wretched thing for a long moment before raising his eyes to the girl.

Hermione’s face remained impassive, but the wizard heard the faint, sharp intake of breath when she gasped quietly.

Of course, Hermione knew Snape was a Death Eater; Harry had told her and Ron about the exchange he had overheard between Snape and Karkaroff the prior year - but Hermione was still shocked when she actually saw the black tattoo on the professor’s pale skin.  She glanced up from the Mark to Snape’s face briefly before looking back to his arm. 

Hermione sighed softly then reached to unroll his shirt sleeve and rebutton the cuff then do the same to his tunic sleeve, “I know.”

Snape furrowed his brow, marveling at her calmness, “You...know?”

“Of course I know; Harry told me and Ron about it last year; I know you’re a Death Eater, but I also know you’re spying for Dumbledore and The Order.  I trust you.  Ron doesn’t trust you at all, and Harry - very reluctantly - trusts you because Dumbledore does; I trust you because I trust  _ you _ ,” Hermione took his hand again.

The wizard gave a noncommittal sigh, looking thoughtful.

 

_______________________

 

Snape left immediately after lunch the following day, heading to The Ministry, where he had another gathering of potential husbands to attend.

He stood grumpily leaning back against the wall of the same room he had been in the previous afternoon to ‘ _ meet _ ’ Hermione.  There were more men there than were there yesterday, though a few of the same ones had shown up.  

The witch who they were all there to meet arrived, “Well, hello, there, everyone!  I can’t wait to get a chance to meet you all!”

She was roughly 27, slender and shapely, a full bust framed by her long, dark brown hair, which fell just beneath the swell of her chest.  

Snape narrowed his dark eyes; her hair gave him the impression she had nothing better to do with her time than to style it her and he found her entrance over-enthusiastic.

Anthony Banner was running this event, as well; the professor listened to Mr. Banner’s welcoming of Erica Snowden and the men before the introductory-spiel.  Snape lamented when it was complete - now he had to endure the charade of what was essentially speed-dating, with only one woman.

Snape was, once again, the last one to meet with the witch; when she approached him in an exultant manner, he reluctantly introduced himself, “I am Severus Snape.  How are you?”

Erica shrugged, “I’m okay.”

After a lengthy silence, Snape cleared his throat, “I’m the Potions Master at Hogwarts; what is your occupation?”

“I’m a clerk at Madam Malkin’s,” she replied, “Do you like teaching?”

Snape thought briefly about the best wording, “On occasion; I have very few promising students, which is disheartening.”

“I still remember how much I hated my maths teacher in Muggle school; she was so awful that kids would always pull pranks on her - do your students ever do that?”

“None have the gobstones,” the wizard replied, trying to make himself less horribly uncomfortable with a small joke.

“What?”

_ Hermione would have laughed. _

Snape soon left The Ministry, the paper with his credentials still in his hand.


	14. A Change of Heart

The next week was uneventful, although Hermione had continued to regularly use Snape as a backrest, feeling a small sense of victory that he didn’t object.

Snape hated that, during meals, his black eyes rarely left Hermione, who he could easily see from his seat at the Head Table, and he noticed it was taking him much longer to grade assignments in the evenings, not to mention how beguiling her presence in his classes was; the girl had become very distracting to him - although he wasn’t lusting after her as he previously had been - everything about her captivated him.

Just before going to bed Friday evening, as Hermione read a Jane Austen novel, the professor watched her, remembering with a heavy heart what he had seen in her thoughts just before her meeting with the wizards in London - this law was robbing the girl of having a relationship form naturally, taking away the pivotal presence of romance, ensuring that she would most likely never experience a proper marriage proposal or wedding.  A line appeared between Snape’s eyebrows; he stood and  went to his bedroom.

Five minutes later, Hermione entered the room, yawning.  She went to the bathroom and switched out of her robes, donning instead her blue shorts and Snape’s dress shirt.

When the girl left the restroom, she saw Snape lounging on his bed.

“Goodnight, Professor,” Hermione said, laying the clothes she’d changed out of on her bag and walking to the cushion on the floor.

Snape extended his hand toward her, “Come here, Miss Granger.”

Hermione blinked, “What?  Wh - why?”

The wizard gave her a  _ stern-professor _ look; Hermione tentatively put her hand in his outstretched one, and Snape pulled her to the space beside himself.  He brought his lips to hers and kissed her very slowly, his hands cradling the sides of her neck; Hermione was very pleasantly surprised Snape led a trail of gentle kisses down onto her neck as his hand fell to her breast.  As his lips brushed on her throat, Hermione unintentionally slid down so that she was lying on her back.  She was startled that he didn’t insist she sit back up and so, she lifted her arms to rest around his neck, sighing in contentedness as the man’s mouth caressed the skin on the front of her neck.  

Snape removed his lips and propped himself beside her with an arm, watching her while his other hand slowly unbuttoned the first three buttons of her shirt; his finger brushed up and down the skin of her breast, the sliver of flesh only barely accessible.  He unbuttoned the next button and slid his hand beneath the shirt to circle her nipple with his index finger.  He did this for several minutes before easily taking her small breast in his large hand.  Snape opened the top half of the shirt and sensually kissed her chest, running his tongue over her breast, drawing the slick muscle along the underside of the mound, and lightly sucking on her nipples.  Raising himself up to kiss Hermione’s mouth, he growled quietly in his chest before returning to adorn her breasts with slow passion. 

Undoing the last several buttons of her shirt, Snape trailed his lips on the skin of her stomach, slowly kissing it as Hermione sighed softly.

When his hands moved to her outer thighs and ran up them, the girl quietly asked, “Professor, I thought you said you weren’t going to cross any more lines, when I’m about to - ”

Snape’s hands ventured up beneath the legs of her shorts, his skin against hers causing Hermione’s breath to catch.

“I stand by that statement,” he said, adorning her collarbone with kisses as he slowly tugged off her shorts, “I won’t cross any more lines when you’re about to marry _someone else_.”

The girl’s eyes found his and saw the sly implication behind his words within the dark pools, “You mean - ?”

Snape gave a single nod, a demure smile on his face; Hermione placed her hand on the side of his face, an enormous weight lifted off her, urging his mouth back down to hers.

She slid her hand under the collar of his green bathrobe and around to the back of his neck before letting her palm fall onto the bit of bare chest that was exposed.

Snape’s hand ran over her stomach, then slid under the waistband of her panties; he carefully touched her and was pleased that she was slick with arousal.  He had almost forgotten how she had felt, but he intended to make sure he would remember the feeling this time; his fingers followed the folds softly, circling around her bead, never touching it.  

He swallowed hard, quickly removing his hand to grasp the sides of her underwear, “Get these off,” he growled as he pulled the girl’s panties down.  Snape looked at her, his already raging erection stiffening even more by the sight of Hermione’s most intimate parts.  He nibbled her ear as his hand once again found her core; he continued tracing her body for a while before Snape’s thumb brushed her pearl, making the girl jump violently.  He tenderly stroked the pebble while he kissed the girl’s lips again.

Hermione gazed up at him, unable to comprehend the wondrous sensations she was feeling at his touch.

Pulling his mouth from hers, Snape watched her as one of his fingers dipped down and slid inside her; Hermione gasped loudly and Snape growled at the feeling of her body.  Her hips lifted as his finger moved rhythmically, and her pelvis jerked upward when he inserted another digit as his thumb massaged the bead at her crest.  

“Ohh, god…” Hermione couldn’t help but moan.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” the wizard husked quietly, continuing to explore her cavern.  His fingers were skilled, eager but gentle as he discovered the girl for a long while, causing her to sigh and moan.  Hermione let her hand trail down the wizard’s chest, admiring the solid, masculine structure.

Snape kissed, licked, and nibbled his way over her breasts and down her stomach lowering his mouth to his student’s pure body.  

When his tongue ventured out to lathe across her pearl, Hermione sighed and wound her fingers in his raven hair.  He tasted her slowly and meticulously, moving his hands to her bottom and lifting her hips so he could dive into the feast. Hermione gasped and whined, moaning her approval.

The wizard finally ended his licking and kissing, moving to slowly devour her neck as he untied his robe, slid his arms out of the sleeves, and let it fall away behind him.  Hermione’s eyes found his organ, taut, thick, and engorged.   Hermione bit her lower lip, nervous but anxious for him. 

Snape returned his fingers to her, previewing the entrance, kissing her neck.  

The wizard studied her beautiful, glistening, impassioned face for a moment, “Are you alright?”

Hermione nodded, “I’m better than alright, Professor.”

“My name,” he purred in her ear, “is Severus,” with his name, Snape thrust inside her; Hermione shrieked with pleasure.

“Oh god,” Snape moaned, stilling inside the girl, relishing the sensation of being in her; it felt as though she was perfectly crafted just for him.

Hermione gave a guttural moan, lifting her hips toward him, begging.

The wizard thrust himself deeper, ravenously devouring her neck, sliding his fingers down to stroke the tiny bundle of nerves between her folds.

Barely able to withhold screening with these marvelous, entirety foreign sensations, Hermione panted in his ear, breathing soft approval, sighing.

Snape slowed his rhythm in an effort to be able to soak in this feeling, but he could feel the passion bubbling within him.  He twisted his hips, sliding into her at a new angle before running his hands softly down her legs, slipping beneath her thighs, and lifting her legs to drape over his shoulders, allowing him to drive even deeper.  Snape’s eyes found Hermione’s and kept his gaze on the girl.

He could feel Hermione tensing slowly; Snape massaged the bead between them, angling his languid thrusts to slide along the petal on her inner wall.  With an immensely erotic moan, Hermione allowed herself to surrender to her professor, ecstasy ripping through her, wave after glorious wave of terrible, beautiful pleasure crashing down on the girl.

Snape clung to the sheets beside her shoulders, feeling her body tighten around his member; he growled, his entire length sheathed by the girl. He felt that her body was specifically designed for his, and, as he was overcome with pleasure, releasing his lust inside her, she was not a girl beneath him; she was an extension of his own body, a perfect part of him that he had never known.

Lying beside her on the bed, Snape watched Hermione breath heavily, her body shining with perspiration.

“Wow,” she panted; Snape smirked and softly drew slow kisses over her shoulder.


	15. Missed Deadlines

"We have three weeks, Miss Gra - Hermione," Snape said to her over tea a few days later.

Hermione lifted her chocolate eyes to him, perplexed, "Until...?"

"Until the 'deadline', by which time you must be married," he said, "You may want to write your parents."

The girl took a deep breath; they had not talked about the law or the fact that Snape had agreed to marry her - she had been too nervous to bring it up, in case she had misinterpreted what he had said, "Oh, right.  I suppose I should go ahead and choose someone, then..."

Snape's onyx orbs snapped to her face, "I...excuse me?"

Shrugging over-casually, his student said, "Well, I haven't actually made an 'official' decision, like The Ministry requires," Hermione hoped her teacher would clarify his words from a few nights ago.

"Forgive me, but I do recall a certain...event...Friday evening, just prior to which I thought I had made it clear I would marry you."

The girl feigned a thoughtful look, "Hmmm....yeah...now that you mention it, it does ring a bell, but I don't recall you explicitly asking."

"Woman, you knew precisely what I meant," Snape smirked, "And you agreed...quite enthusiastically, if memory serves."

Hermione blushed deeply then kissed the wizard, letting her mouth linger against his as she spoke, "You were very convincing."

Setting the tea aside, Snape raised an eyebrow, "Are you certain?  I would be happy to try and persuade you again..."

  
_______________________

  
Hermione tapped on the Headmaster's door; once he had responded, telling her to enter, she pushed open the heavy door, stepped inside, and stopped short.  Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, the Minister of Magic at his side, and Lucius Malfoy a few feet behind them. 

"Ah, Miss Granger," Cornelius Fudge spoke with a jolly businessman tone.

Dumbledore cast a sideways glance at the minister before stepping around his desk; he spoke slowly, almost gravely, "Miss Granger, are you aware of what day it is?"

Hermione frowned, "It's Monday, sir."

"If you recall the stipulations on the Muggle-Born Marriage Mandate," Fudge said, "your decision needed to be finalized by this past Friday."

"But - I - it was!"

"The Ministry has no knowledge of this; when was the agreement made?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, "Last Friday!"

Fudge flicked his wand, a manilla folder appearing in his hand; he rifled through the papers inside it, "No, Miss Granger, no decision is on record of having been made.  And, as the deadline has passed, and Mister Malfoy has made a generous offer, he is your partner."

"Excuse me?" Hermione stepped backward, "No!  I made a decision myself, thank you!"

"If I might, Minister," Dumbledore interrupted, "Perhaps we should inquire as to who Miss Granger chose."

"Professor Snape!" she declared.

"Wonderful," the elderly wizard said, "Let's have him join us and perhaps we can sort this all out."

He tossed some Floo Powder into the fireplace behind and summoned Snape; a moment later, the dark-haired wizard emerged from green flames.

Snape stepped stepped out of the fireplace and, seeing Hermione's distressed face, frowned deeply, "Yes, Albus?"

Fudge, instead, responded, "Severus, it seems Miss Granger believes she entered into an agreement with you, regarding the Muggle-Born Marriage - "

"She believes correctly," Snape spoke calmly.

The minister chuckled, "As it turns out, Severus, no contract was officially sealed.  Therefore, Miss Granger's hand will go to Mister Malfoy."

"No it will not!" Hermione exclaimed.

Snape's face paled considerably, "I have already consented and her hand is her own, to do with as she pleases."

Lucius stepped forward, "Severus, honestly, my friend, I can provide Granger with so much more than you ever could.  And, as it so happens, I have offered a sizeable amount in exchange for the girl."

"I was under the impression that, in today's societies, dowries were no longer permissible," Snape spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm afraid that is irrelevant, Severus," Lucius commented, "And I would hardly consider it a dowry; more accurately, a purchase."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back, watching Snape carefully; his stance was aggressive, his shoulders squared, his hands that had been so gentle with her were clenched in rage.

"Pr - Professor..." she whispered, desperation coating her voice, "Please..."

Snape approached the girl, who leaned her head forward into his chest, finally allowing tears to roll from her eyes.  Placing his hands on the sides of her face, he lifted her head, softly brushed the hair away from her face, and pressed his lips gently to the girl's forehead, letting them linger for a long moment before mumbling, "Go back to our chambers; I'll sort this out."

Hermione nodded then left.

_______________________

As soon as Snape was certain Hermione had had plenty of time to get out of the Gargoyle Corridor, he whirled around to face the three other men in the room, shouting, "This is madness!  She did not miss the deadline!"

Fudge seemed to teeter when Snape yelled, but spoke anyway, "S - Severus, you must understand, the law specifically states - "

"Damn the law!" Snape roared.

The blonde wizard took a few arrogant steps forward, "How touching; when teaching her all these years, have you become protective of the Mudblood?"

Whipping out his wand, the Potions Master pointed it at Lucius, "Don't you - dare call her that," he snarled.

Fudge jumped between Snape and Lucius, placing his hand up, attempting to prevent Snape from hexing Malfoy, "Come now, Severus, you wouldn't want - "

"Minister," Snape said evenly, "I don't want to injure you, but I assure you that I will if I must; step aside."

Dumbledore quickly but calmly spoke, "Severus, if you attack Lucius - "

"Don't be absurd, Albus; I don't plan to attack him - I'm going to kill him."

"Even so," the headmaster continued, "If you harm Lucius, you know you will end up in Azkaban."

Snape's dark eyes flitted to Dumbledore then back to Malfoy, "Perhaps.  But Lucius will be dead, and therefore unable to marry Hermione."

Dumbledore appeared thoughtful for a moment - never had he heard Severus Snape call a student by their first name, "While this is true, Severus, you should consider that she would still be required to marry - and, with you in prison, she will be wed to someone else."

Sighing in resignation, Snape lowered his wand, keeping a glare filled with malice fixed on Lucius.

Fudge sighed in relief.

"How much?" Snape asked the minister, still fixing a hateful glare on the blonde wizard.

"What?" Fudge asked.

"You said he," Snape spat the word, "gave you a monetary amount.  How much?  What price did the honorable Lucius Malfoy give for her?"  He was consumed by a fury he had never experienced; there was no way Lucius Malfoy was going to marry his witch.

"He hasn't given me anything yet, but - "

"Three thousand galleons," Lucius answered arrogantly, "Although, I hardly think she's worth that much."

Snape snarled.

"You're welcome to outbid me, Severus," Lucius sneered, "Oh, but that's right...that'd be half of your yearly salary, wouldn't it?  Shame."

"There's no need for that, now, Lucius," Dumbledore interjected.

Lucius shifted his eyes to the old wizard, "No?  I would have thought you, of all people, Albus, would take a great deal of concern in who would be able to provide the girl with more; she is, after all, one of your favorite students, isn't she?"

Fudge spoke, "He has a good point, Severus.  Would you be as capable of supporting Miss Granger?  What can you provide her with?"

"Love," Snape replied, "I can love her.  I do love her.  And, frankly, Minister, I believe that counts for much more."

_______________________

"What happened?" Hermione questioned no sooner than the door of their chambers had closed behind Snape, "Do I have to marry Mister Malfoy?  Tell me I don't have to marry Mister Malfoy!  I do.  I have to marry Mister Malfoy, don't I?"

She had run to the man, panic and dread in her eyes; Snape took her in his arms, pulling her close, "Shh...we'll talk about it tomorrow; go back to bed and get some sleep."

Hermione nodded, bleary-eyed; it was 3 in the morning - she had been called to the headmaster's office at exactly 12:01, the morning of the first Monday since the deadline.

_______________________

  
They barely had time to discuss anything before breakfast and classes began; Snape had known that would be the case.

"After you left last night, the Minister informed me that, since there was no 'formal request' for your hand, that agreement was not considered official by the Ministry, and, therefore, does not apply."

Hermione's face went pale, "But we knew.  You knew what you meant and I knew what you meant, and we understood!"

"I'm afraid that doesn't matter to them; it seems that the Ministry requires an explicit request and an articulated agreement."

Morose, Hermione went to her classes, once again feeling as though her life had been turned upside down.  Harry, Ron, and Ginny took no notice of her silence at lunch, as she hid behind a book - although not really reading.

Her first lesson after lunch was Potions, which she felt comfort in.  She set to brewing the assigned elixir, occasionally catching Snape's gaze, giving a sad smile each time.

The professor watched Hermione throughout most of the class, her wild hair growing less manageable by the minute, her brow furrowed in adorable concentration, her teeth frequently gnawing on her plump bottom lip.  His gaze trained on the student, Snape felt a warmth of peaceful contentedness and agonizing yearning within himself.


	16. Diversion Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*   
> This chapter is pure smut.

Overwhelming dread and distress consumed Hermione constantly; she could get no class work done in any of her lessons, her usually brilliant mind unwillingly occupied with the horror of the situation. The girl had taken to eating meals in complete silence, staring with unfocused eyes into nothing.

Her professor was growing more and more concerned about her; she had hardly talked regarding the situation, and simply seemed to be bitterly resigned. This was not the Hermione Snape knew and he wanted his Hermione back.

“Hermione,” Snape said rather brusquely as he returned to the chambers after dinner.

She looked at her teacher, “What? More exciting news? Must I marry The Minister, too?” Hermione gave a defeated sigh and laid her forehead forward onto the table.

The wizard walked cautiously, but with determination, to stand beside her, “No. But, I must ask if you’ve heard of Diversion Therapy? It’s similar to Aversion Therapy, however, instead of causing one to dislike something, it allows for something unappealing to be forgotten - for a time. I thought, perhaps, you would find it effective...maybe even enjoyable.”

Hermione gave a quiet grunt, nodding her head, so that it only slid up and down the surface of the table. Snape took hold of the back of her collar, raising her head, and held her chin, lifting it so he could press his mouth to hers roughly. He pulled her up from the chair and into the bedroom.

“Don’t move,” Snape spoke as he wrapped a black piece of fabric around her head, tying it to cover her eyes.

Hermione frowned, not sure what he was doing, but then she felt his warm breath against her neck and he kissed it firmly before he spoke against her lips, “Once you surrender everything, when you give up all of your control, that is when you can truly be free, Miss Granger.”

The wizard’s fingers laced through hers, “Will you let me free you?”

She nodded silently.

At the sudden feeling of the cool dungeon air on her skin, Hermione realized he had removed her clothing - down to her panties - with a flick of his wand; her hands came together, being bound together at the wrists in front of her with a length of emerald silk.

“Prof -”

Snape silenced her with a tender kiss, “Shh.” He held the side of the girl’s neck, “Trust me.”

Hermione nodded again and felt his hands at her hips as he led her to the bed.

  
The wizard laid her back onto the mattress and slowly untitled her hands, releasing one, and replacing the soft silk with a cold metal cuff before doing the same on her other wrist then restraining them to the iron headboard.

“If you wish me to stop, simply say ‘hippogriff’.”

The girl nodded; Snape fiercely kissed her neck, biting the flesh. Hermione felt his mouth venturing lower, onto her breasts, as his hands ran up her arms; his teeth closed on her nipple sharply before he swept his tongue across the pained bud to atone. The relief was short-lived, as she then felt his fingers pinch her, pulling her small breast outward by the nub, then inward, upward, and downward, releasing each time to watch her breast bounce back to its place. Snape gave her other breast the same treatment, causing Hermione’s breathing to become heavier.

She felt nothing for a few moments before something very hot and wet dropped onto her wrist; she flinched, then another drop fell on her other wrist. Snape watched the white candle wax splash onto the girl, adding a trail of droplets down her arms.

The wizard kissed Hermione passionately for a long moment, then left her mouth to fix his dark eyes on the bead of wax that was preparing to fall from the candlestick in his hand. Hermione jerked against the shackles when a liquid suddenly scalded her nipple; Snape smirked and allowed more wax to drip onto her other nipple.

“What is tha -?” she panted, clearly intrigued.

The man scraped the now-hardened wax off her with his teeth, “Not something you need to know. Did you like it?”

Hermione nodded, although her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“In that case, I may utilize that particular...sensation...later on,” Snape purred, “But not quite yet.”

The wizard drew his hand over the flat of her panties between her legs as he viciously kissed her stomach. Snape peeled off her underwear and drew his tongue up her inner thigh; she giggled, as it tickled, and pulled her legs together.

“I don’t think so, Miss Granger,” he pushed her thighs apart and placed a metal cuff on each of her ankles, attaching them to the bottom bedposts before capturing her thighs with two more shackles just above her knees, keeping them separated.

“There we go,” Snape looked at his handiwork, “Now that you’re spread open for me, let’s have a bit more fun, shall we?”

A gush of arousal flowed from the girl at his words; Snape raised an eyebrow - this was going to be better than he’d imagined, “You are quite the little tart, aren’t you?”  
He gave no warning, no gentle touch, but immediately pushed three digits deep inside her; Hermione jumped slightly. Snape pumped his hand a few times before slowly slipping out of her. The man opened his student’s folds and sharply bit the bead before devouring her body. He slid two fingers into her again, reaching deeply as he carefully lifted the protective covering of the girl’s most sensitive bunch of nerves to nibble the tiny pearl; Hermione squealed in pain and pleasure.

Snape licked her wetness, tasting every bit of her that he could before summoning a small step stool, lifting her hips off the bed, and placing the stool beneath her hips. The wizard drank in the sight of the girl, reveling in the knowledge that she trusted him completely. He looked at her, snapped his fingers to summoning a few more things, then began.

Taking the candlestick in his hand again, Snape spun it a few times before enough melted wax had collected; he held her lips apart and let a burning hot drop fall onto her clit. Hermione shrieked.   
“Was that a scream of pain or pleasure?”

“Both,” the girl’s voice was breathy but hoarse.

Snape drizzled a few more drops over the pink flesh, causing Hermione to squirm. He blew out the flame and pressed the bottom of the candle against her entrance before shoving it into her, then quickly pulling it out again.

He slid two fingers into her, then two more on his other hand, tugging gently to open her farther. Snape watched as two of his fingers penetrated her, then three.

The girl’s body resisted a fourth digit, but he eventually persuaded it then used his thumb to massage her bead while his fingers gradually loosened her.

After a while of this, Snape removed his fingers from within her.

Hermione felt something cool and hard running over her nether regions then slip into her. As the professor moved the glass test tube inside her, he chose another object.

Snape removed the test tube and pressed the bottom of a Florence flask against her body, slowly pushing the bulbous glass inside her; Hermione sighed loudly. The man smirked and twirled the flask within her, eliciting soft squeaks from her.

The wizard leaned over to graze his lips on hers before husking, “Do you know what I’m doing?”

“No,” Hermione breathed, her eyes closed.

“I’m fucking your pussy with a flask.”

Her eyes snapped open, startled, not by what he was doing to her, but by his words. Seeing her shock, the wizard smirked, “Now, now, this is no time for propriety. Do enjoy this?”

The girl nodded.

“What do you enjoy?” Snape asked slyly, “Would you like me to stop? Or should I continue?”

Hermione felt her face burn, “Continue.”

“As you wish,” he pushed the flask more roughly into her a few times before saying, “Let’s try something else, as well...”

He once again picked up the test tube and slid it slowly into her bottom, watching the glass disappear inside her ass as she whimpered.

“And this, Miss Granger?”

The girl sighed, “Continue...more. Please.”

Snape pushed the tube farther into her rear, “Like this?”

She sighed, nodding a bit.

Snape pulled the objects out of her and swallowed hard before lining up the Florence flask with her bottom; as he slipped the glass flask into the girl’s ass, she moaned softly. The professor rhythmically pumped the flask and tasted her sweet body again. He felt the student tensing gradually, “You are not allowed to peak until I tell you to,” Snape growled.

Hermione nodded, wishing he would tell her she could boil over; she had never felt so wonderfully filled and she needed to release.

Snape continued his actions, delighting in the knowledge that he was causing Hermione such tantalizing frustration.   
The professor furrowed his brow then learned to violently kiss her, “I’m growing jealous of my laboratory equipment, Hermione.” The wizard moved to nip at her neck, suddenly slamming himself inside her p; she moaned in his ear.

He unshackled her legs and grasped her thighs tightly, ramming deeper. Snape pulled the flask from her bottom and pushed his fingers into the tight opening. He tossed the stool aside, desperate to be closer to her.

Snape passionately devoured her collarbone, “Let go of the world, Hermione, let go of everything and just be mine,” he purred, “Now. Come for me.”

Ecstasy ripped through Hermione; a terrible, beautiful, perfectly devastating earthquake of pleasure rocked inside her body. The man growled and swiftly turned her over, his rod slick with her lust sliding easily into Hermione’s asshole.

“FUCK!” Hermione exclaimed.

Snape ran his hands along Hermione’s back, and curled one hand over her shoulder, the other winding through her hair, tugging on both.

Another set of glorious waves crashed over Hermione; when her body clenched around him, Snape was lost, falling, himself, into blissful oblivion, and neither of them were thinking about the fact that she had to marry Lucius Malfoy.


	17. Imprisoned

Shuffling her feet, looking down at her trainers, Hermione spoke, "H - How does this work?"

The Minister looked over his desk at her, "Well, Miss Granger, Lucius has agreed to have you stay at his home for a time before you make the marriage official, so as to allow for an easier transition."

"Yes, I realize how...sudden...this will be for you," Lucius drawled from beside her, "and I assure you that I will be as understanding as I can; you will, after all, be my wife very soon."  He used his gloved hand to push a piece of Hermione's hair out of her face; she recoiled.

"Seeing as there are only ten days remaining before you must be legally bound, you will reside with Mister Malfoy for the next several days, and the vows made on..." Fudge looked at Malfoy in question.

"Saturday," Lucius finished.

_______________________

 

The girl flew into the Potions classroom, hardly noticing the students working at their cauldrons, "Professor!"

Snape, who had been prowling through the rows of brewing stations, looked at Hermione; seeing her tear-streaked face, he frowned deeply, "Continue your work.  Place a sample of your completed brew on my desk, clearly labelled with your name; I will return."

He strode swiftly to Hermione, taking her elbow, and leading her out of the classroom, "Who must I kill?"

"Me," she buried her face in the teacher's robes.

"Absolutely not."

"Then help me run away!"

Snape bared his teeth, "I would, I truly would, but I'm afraid it would be of little use; you are not yet seventeen - with The Trace still on you, the Ministry would know your location."

"Shit," Hermione cursed.

"Shit, indeed."

_______________________

 

She meticulously folded every piece of clothing she possessed, even doing the socks individually, begrudgingly placing each item in a bag.

"Why don't you use your wand, you silly witch?" Snape commented.

"Because," Hermione sighed, replying as though it were obvious, "the longer it takes me to pack, the longer it will be before I get to that awful man's place."

The wizard nodded, "Perhaps I could delay you a bit more," he seized her wrist and pulled the girl toward his chair and onto his lap, a mischievous glint in his black eyes.

Hermione kissed his lips fervently, "I hate this.  I don't want to go.  I don't want to leave you."

She slid from his lap down to the floor in front of him and fumbled with his belt and trousers until he was finally freed from the cloth cage, "Something to remember me by," she smirked sadly before taking him in her mouth.

_______________________

 

"Welcome to your new home," Lucius said as he opened the door to his mansion, entering with Hermione.

Looking around resentfully, she saw that the house was elaborate, every decoration clearly expensive. 

A feeble, starved-looking House Elf noticed the arrival of Lucius and hurriedly scurried out of the room, clearly terrified of his Master.

"Eddy!" Lucius suddenly called.

The small Elf crept back into the foyer, "Y - yes, Mis - Mister Lucius, sir?"

"Show Miss Granger here to the Grand Guest Room," the wizard demanded, glancing at Hermione, "She will be staying in the Grand Guest Room - which is certainly more than accommodating enough for a Mudblood - until Saturday evening, when, of course," Lucius turned slightly to face the girl, "you'll be moved to the Grand Master Suite, where I spend my nights, and our marriage will be...consummated."

Hermione struggled, but managed to suppress the gag of disgust that came with the thought.  
Eddy, the House Elf, bowed deeply to her, "If you'd follow me, Miss - right this way."

"Of course, thank you," Hermione said sweetly; she saw no reason to be unkind to the House Elf just because she was betrothed to a despicable monster of a wizard - it wasn't Eddy's fault.  As she followed the Elf up several staircases and through the hallways, Hermione was haunted by the "decorations" of mounted House Elf heads, one placed on the walls between each enormous oil painting of exquisitely dressed witches and wizards, framed effigies of the Malfoy and the Black ancestors.

"Here you are, Miss," Eddy opened a large door and showed the girl inside; the room really was 'grand': the walls were a rose colored textured plaster with gold trim; a giant window taking up most of one wall; a four-poser double bed in the very center of the mahogany floor; several more, much smaller, oil paintings of wizards framed in gold hung on the walls. Curious as to who the portraits were of, Hermione inspected them; she was not surprised to see that one bore a silver nameplate of S. Slytherin, but the fact that there was a picture of a dark-haired, stereotypically handsome young man, the silver nameplate inscripted with T. Riddle - Lord Voldemort was downright appalling.  The girl looked at the other portraits in an effort to distract herself from the thought that she was in the home of a wizard who thought Voldemort was worth revering; a painting of a wizened looking old man was labeled as M. Merlin, another portrait as G. Grindewald and an image of a stout man with a tiny little black moustache, A. Hitler.

Determined not to wallow, Hermione set to reading one of the books her father had told her about, The Lord of the Rings.  She soon realized why he had talked about it so much; it was, of course, a very interesting narrative, but the world the author had created was so detailed and captivating that she found herself wishing with all her might that she was an enchanting elf from in Rivendell, beautiful and breathtaking like Arwen or powerful and glorious like Galadriel in Lothlorien - nether of them would find themselves in her position.

"Miss witch, miss?" a hesitant voice came from the small House Elf just outside her door a few hours later.

Sitting up straighter, the girl saw that Eddy was back, "Hello.  It's Eddy, right?"

"Yes, yes ma'am, Eddy, Miss."

Smiling kindly, she looked at him, "There's no need for that; you can call me 'Hermione'."

"Oh, no, Miss, Eddy would never disrespect his Master's wench like that."

" _Wench_?"

"This is what Mister Master says you are, Miss, his wench," Eddy commented as though the term wasn't insulting.

Closing The Fellowship of the Ring with a snap, Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Oh, really?"

Eddy nodded enthusiastically before saying, "Miss, Mister Master sent me to retrieve you for tea."

Hermione scoffed, "I'm sure he did.  I don't want tea."

"Yes, Miss," Eddy slinked away.

She had expected no less, but she was angry anyway. 

Returning to Middle Earth placated Hermione a bit, though her gut remained in knots.  She had read only a page of The Two Towers when Eddy returned with Lucius's invitation to lunch, which she refused, "His _wench_ isn't hungry."

Several hours later, halfway through the book, the House Elf returned, limping and bearing a crude wrap of dirty rags around his head, "Miss, Mister Master wishes you would join him for dinner."

"I won't join him for anything," Hermione said before looking at the Elf; seeing his state, she hurried to him, " _Eddy_!  What happened to you?  Are you alright?"

He nodded glumly, "Eddy is fine, Miss.  Mister Master was unhappy with Eddy for telling Mister Master's...wench this title he uses for her."

"Mister Malfoy did this to you?" she asked, heated.

"Mister Master only wanted Eddy to get Mister Master's wench to come to lunch and tea, but Eddy did not do as he wished."

"Oh, Eddy, I'm so sorry!" Hermione felt sick knowing that she caused Lucius to beat the Elf.

Lucius strode into the room abruptly, closing the door behind himself, "Elf, get out."

Eddy snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Hermione glared at the wizard.

"You haven't been at meals, Granger." he snapped; the girl said nothing.

Lucius took a step toward her, "Has no one taught you how rude it is to ignore someone who speaks to you? Especially your superior?"

Hermione scoffed.

The wizard was suddenly a foot away from her; he grabbed her face in one hand, squeezing her cheeks painfully, "How dare you disrespect me?  I have taken you into my house as a guest and you refuse to accept the hospitality of meals or even tea?"

Though her mouth was being clamped by his grip, Hermione spoke, "I don't think anyone who beats a House Elf deserves respect."

Lucius squeezed more tightly, "You need to learn your place; you will be my wife in a few days time, but that will not change the fact that you are Mudblood filth."

Rage boiled over; Hermione glared at him and spat directly in Lucius's face.  
The wizard looked stunned for a brief second before violently slapping her across the cheek; try as she might, Hermione couldn't keep her reflexes at bay and she recoiled away from the man.

"I expect your presence any and every time I request it tomorrow," Lucius sneered, "You disobey me again and the consequences will be severe and very unpleasant for you."


	18. Agony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains sexual violence. Read at your own risk.

Although the bed had been wonderfully comfortable, Hermione woke the next morning feeling worse than ever; she had barely slept, and what little she had gotten was fitful and hardly qualified as rest.

Exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally, the girl stayed in bed, hoping to fall back asleep, this time into a more peaceful slumber.

Hermione slept straight through breakfast and tea, only waking when someone tugged on the blankets; she rolled over groggily to see Eddy beside her bed, desperately trying to get her up, his face distraught, large tears falling from his big eyes, “Miss...Miss...wake up, please. Mister Master would like you to come for lunch. _Please_ go to him.”

The girl looked at Eddy, seeing that he was bearing new bruises and multiple fresh lashes on his frail body.

“Eddy couldn’t wake Miss Witch for breakfast or tea,” he said, “Mister  
Master was not happy with Eddy. Eddy asks if Miss Witch will go down for lunch so he won’t face Master’s walking stick again.”

Hermione looked at Eddy with pity, “Eddy, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to sleep so long. Please forgive me. I’ll go to lunch so that vile man doesn’t take his anger with me out on you.”

She saw the immense relief and gratitude on the little Elf’s face - her hatred for Lucius increased tenfold.

_______________________

Walking into the Day Room, where Eddy had told her lunch was served, Hermione sat at the small round table across from Mister Malfoy, declaring firmly, “I’m here.”

Lucius didn’t look at her, slowly unfolding his linen napkin to tuck it into his collar, forming a pretentious bib of sorts, “Yes. That’s a good dog.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t respond.

“Lindy,” he said to the room, “We’re ready for lunch; do not keep me waiting.”

A small female House Elf popped into the room, bearing a tray of food, “Lindy didn’t mean for Master Lucius to wait, sir; ee! I see the girl joins you this afternoon.”  
Lindy addressed Hermione, “We hope you enjoy the meals we prepare, Miss. Lunch today is salmon croquettes. What beverage would you like , Miss?”

“Water is fine for her,” Lucius said.

“Yes, Mister Lucius,” Lindy replied, placing a plate in front of each of the two before disappearing.

Hermione, although starving, only took small bites of the lemon-herb rice and nibbled at the croquette. The meal was delicious, but she didn’t want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of this knowledge. She sipped on her glass of water, silently watching the hateful wizard eat.

Lucius noticed she wasn’t eating much, “Is there something not to your liking?”

_You_.

“No, I just don’t feel very well,” Hermione replied quietly.

“Ah, that can happen if you refuse to eat for days,” Lucius said simply, “I assume that’s why you decided to present yourself?”

“Actually, I didn’t want Eddy to be punished any more,” the girl said before adding, “I’d rather him not be beaten, even if it means I have to endure you.”

Lucius swallowed a bite of food, “I thought I told you to show respect, Granger.”

“And I told you that I have none for you.”

The blonde wizard smirked calmly, “That you did. Perhaps you will see the error of your ways at dinner. I expect you to be in the dining room at seven p.m.”

_______________________

  
Begrudgingly, Hermione entered the dining room at 7:05.

“You’re late, girl,” Lucius spat from the long dining table, “Dinner is getting cold.”

“There isn’t even any food on the table,” she retorted, sitting reluctantly.

“Lindy, the meal.” When he said this, two plates of beef wellington and roasted potatoes appeared on the table.

“You were saying, Granger?”

The girl glared pointedly at him, beginning to eat, although slowly again.

Picking up an elaborately and intricately etched glass saucer, Lucius drawled, “This dining ware has been in the Malfoy family for centuries; the Magical Museum of London offered five billion galleons for it, as it can be traced all the way to Salazar Slytherin himself.”

Hermione didn’t respond.

“So, you see, Granger, you will be joining a renowned line of elite witches and wizards when we marry Saturday; you might want to be a bit less sullen. You will have access to anything you could ever want and our children will have the highest privilege known to wizardkind.”

Children. That meant she would have to have sex with the vile man. Hermione hadn’t even thought about that.

_______________________

  
The following two days were, if possible, even more horrific for Hermione; Lucius had continued to insist she go to breakfast, tea, lunch, and dinner, during all of which he droned on about his prestigious family, as though trying to convince her that he was a perfect, exemplary prize of a wizard that she should be grateful to be the future wife of.

Dinner on Thursday evening was going as well as Hermione could expect, with Lucius keeping the habit of boasting while the girl tried to prevent from rolling her eyes so much that they rolled all the way out of her skull and onto the ‘one-of-a-kind antique Persian rug hand crafted by the best tapestry masters to ever live’ . Then he brought up their “wedding”.

“The ceremony is scheduled for three on on Saturday; invitations have been extended to your friends - Mister Potter and the Weasley boy, along with a few of your classmates. Draco, of course, will be there. However, I didn’t invite your parents; they are Muggles, after all, and you’ll have to distance yourself from them, anyway. It’s difficult enough that I’ll have a Mudblood wife, but I cannot be associating with Muggles, and neither can you.”

“You’re telling me that I can’t see my parents anymore?”

“Like I said, I cannot have you associating with Muggle riffraff.”

_Snap_.

Hermione leapt up from the dining table, shoved her steaming, half-eaten Shepherd’s Pie in his face and stormed out of the room.

She ran into her room, slamming the door behind herself, and blasted the pictures on the walls into shards of glass with her wand, enraged.

Several minutes later, the door was torn open and Lucius barged in; he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her from the room. He yanked Hermione down the hallway and shoved her into another room, this one a large bedroom with a roaring fireplace and a giant bed, the dark green walls bare.

“You have disrespected me enough, Mudblood. I am done asking nicely,” Lucius threw her from himself, “If you won’t acknowledge you are mine, I will just have to make you.”

He ripped her blouse from her, buttons scattering. Lucius grabbed her small breast and squeezed with a vice-like grip before tearing down the girl’s skirt, taking her panties with it. Hermione tried to cover herself, horrified.

Lucius jerked her bra off and fiercely squeezed her breasts again before seizing her by the throat and forcing Hermione to the bed.

“Our marriage must be consummated, but I think this is time to teach you a lesson.”

Suddenly, the wizard was on top of her, attacking her breasts roughly, viciously biting her flesh and pressing his mouth to hers, shoving his tongue inside. Hermione shoved at him uselessly; Lucius removed his pants and briefs to reveal a disgusting, pallid erection. He shoved his fingers inside her, and she felt silent tears fall from her eyes.  
The wizard cruelly continued violating her with his fingers for what felt like hours. Lucius calmly stood and walked to the fireplace; the girl tried to dry her eyes.

In a moment, Lucius was back; Hermione had no time to be fearful, no second to protest - the wizard opened her legs and pressed a scalding piece of metal to the inside of her thigh - she shrieked in pain as the branding iron burned her flesh. The wizard held it against the upper inside of her thigh until her skin stopped sizzling; when he removed the iron, he gave her an evil smirk, “See? Now you are officially my property.”

Hermione glanced at her throbbing leg and saw “MUDBLOOD FILTH” branded on her inner thigh.

Lucius violently forced himself inside Hermione, pummeling her with all his strength, laughing in her face as she cried.

“Where is your Gryffindor bravery, girl?” he sneered, shoving himself inside her as he simultaneously gripped her thigh, pressing his thumb as hard as he could against the raw, newly branded flesh. Hermione screamed in agony.

When Lucius finished, he climbed off of the girl and stood, beginning to get dressed.

He straightened out his sleeve, idly asking, “Traditionally, a woman should retain their virtue until their wedding night, but I thought you needed to be taught your place.”

Through her tears, as one final, feeble act of defiance, Hermione managed to whisper, “You didn’t take my virtue, it was already gone.”


	19. Professor Snape's Profession

Determined to avoid Lucius, Hermione stayed in her room the entirety of Friday, quietly crying on the bed.  

Eddy tentatively entered, “Miss...Master Lucius noticed your absence in the Day Room today; he sent me to request you join him for dinner.  Wh - what should I tell Master Lucius?”

Giving a choked sob, the girl whispered, “Tell him to go fuck himself.”

The House Elf seemed abashed and stared at her for a moment before silently leaving.

Curling up under a mass of blankets, Hermione silently bawled; there was no way out of this - she was going to have to marry the most horrible man she had ever met and there was nothing she could do about it.  As the days had turned to hours, she lost all hope; part of her had thought Severus would come blast away Lucius and take her back to Hogwarts, but as evening fell, Hermione realized that was just a silly hope.

_______________________

 

Waking to find Lindy the House Elf in her room, Hermione sat up, startled, “Lindy?  What are you doing in here?”

“Ee!  So sorry, Miss; I didn’t want to wake you, but Master Lucius insisted - your vows are in an hour and a half, Miss,” Lindy explained, “Lindy brought you a sandwich for lunch, if you’d like it.  After you eat, you will need to get ready very quickly, but Lindy would love to help.”

Taking a bite of the sandwich, Hermione frowned slightly, “ _Get_ _ready?_ It’s not like this is an actual _wedding_.”

“Well, no, Miss, but a photographer from the newspaper is coming  - see, Master Lucius is rather important, a - a public figure, I think it’s called, and his marriage will be a story…”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Yes, Miss,” the little elf explained, “Surely this is why Master Lucius is having your friends here, so the pictures will appear like it was a big celebration.”

That sounded like something Lucius Malfoy would do, present his marriage as a fantastic, lavish event without having to face the prospect of introducing his Muggle-Born wife to guests.

Hermione sighed, getting up to brush her teeth. 

After doing so, she left the bathroom, darting across the hall and back into her room, “I suppose he’s picked something for me to wear?”

“Ee! Yes, Miss, and it is beautiful!” Lindy said, excited, as she waved her hand and an enormous white dress floated into the room.

It was hideous: it seemed like acre after acre of shiny white satin had been bundled up around a colander and someone had wrapped a corset two hundred times with toole.  

The girl swallowed hard forced a smile; Lindy was trying to be helpful, and she didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying how awful the dress was.

“Come, now, put on your slip and I’ll do... something with your hair, Miss.“

Hermione grumbled internally as she pulled the silk slip over her head, feeling almost numb, unwilling to believe this was really happening.  She sat down on the floor to allow the eager elf to attempt taming her wild hair.  

Lindy had ran a wide-tooth comb halfway through a section of the girl’s tangles before Hermione squeaked, the nausea that came with her predicament finally peaking; she leapt up and ran across the hallway, barely making it to the toilet it in time to vomit.  She retched for a couple of minutes before coughing, brushing her teeth again, and leaving the bathroom.

Lucius happened to be walking past; the wizard paused, “Granger.  Shouldn’t you be wearing your wedding dress?  I chose it especially for you,” he drawled; I _should have known he had picked the most awful thing on purpose._

Deciding to combat his demeanor with cheerful compliance (as he clearly wanted nothing more than to make her life difficult), Hermione smiled, “It  _ is  _ extremely beautiful.  I don’t know how you found something so perfect.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes.

“Although, considering your respect for tradition, I am surprised that you still chose something white.”

With a faint, hateful smirk, he said, “That tradition is still acceptable when physical encounters were between the bride and groom.”

“I know,” she brushed past him, heading to her room, but her forearm was clamped tightly in a hand.

Lucius whirled her back around to him, pulled her face two inches from his and hissed, “ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“I - I told you - ” Hermione was frightened by the anger in the man’s face and the dangerous tone of his voice, “Thur - Thursday... a-after ...I told you.”

She had thought for sure he had heard her tell him that her virtue was already gone, but, then, she had been so upset and in so much pain that perhaps she had only whispered it.

“You - you - had been...defiled?  You filthy Mudblood!” Lucius had grown red in the face - it looked as though he might explode.  He did, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, MUDBLOOD TRASH!” He threw her from him, tossing her to the hard floor.

Hermione scrambled to her feet and ran from the mansion.  She didn’t know what to do or where to go.  She was in England, after all, hundreds of miles from Hogwarts, where she knew she needed to return.

Barefoot, the girl fled from the Malfoy residence, past street after street; Hermione walked, ran, and trotted for hours, never encountering more than a rundown shack.  The burning asphalt scorched her feet to the brink of blisters, and when she finally started walking in the cooler dirt, she frequently stumbled over protruding roots and unlevel ground.  As she approached a small town, Hermione had to walk on the cement again, which was torture on her bare feet, as they had taken quite a beating already. 

It had just become dusk when she finally made it to a pub on the corner of a relatively busy road; Hermione knew it was a wizard pub because, although it was very odd and looked extremely out-of-place (deep purple amidst a street lined with white shops and dining, a story taller than every other business around it, not to mention the fact that it appeared to be upside-down, roof shingles in front of the doorway, grass and a few lawn ornaments on the roof, with window planters on the top of paned glass, the flowers dangling beneath), shoppers seemed oblivious to its presence.  

She tore through the door, desperate to get back to the school.  “Hi, I’m so very sorry about this,” she panted to the bartender, “But is there a fireplace I can use to get back to Hogwarts?”

An eccentric-looking man wearing a top hat with a flower the same color as the building in the band and a long, sweeping cloak that was the deep purple, as well, came from around the bar, “Hello, my dear young lady!  You seem all afluster!  The fireplace is just over there, and I have enough Floo Powder for you to travel the world ‘round - although I’d not suggest it until you’ve dressed more warmly.  I shall get you a - a nice, warm butterbeer; would you like that?  No charge!  Have a little sip and get your rebellious derriere back to school!  I’d much appreciate it if you refrained from telling old Alby I didn’t send you straightaway, mind you.”

“Oh, I - I wouldn’t - ”

The odd bartender smiled a crazed-looking smile, “Of  _ course  _ you wouldn’t, but I can’t run the risk of having a student ratting me out to the headmaster.”

“No, sir, I - I meant I don’t even know who you are, so how could - ”

He laughed manically for a moment, “By golly, you’re a smartypants, aren’t you?  Well, my name is Nate Nattleton - oh, Godric, now you’ll surely rat me out.”  

Nate smiled again; he did that almost constantly, it seemed.

“Oh, well, don’t worry, sir; I won’t say anything - I’m in enough trouble as it is without causing problems for anyone else...I - I’m sorry, but I really have to get back...do you mind if I use your fireplace?”

Nate nodded jovially, “Of course, my dear delinquent.”   
  


_______________________

 

Hermione tumbled out of a fireplace in The Room of Requirement; as she’d tossed the Floo Powder into the flames in Nate Nattleton’s fireplace, she had said “Snape’s -  _ drat!  _ \- room?”

She was glad that she’d at least made it to Hogwarts, but that glimmer of happiness was extinguished as she descended the stairs from the Fourth Floor to the Third; Hermione was exhausted - after going the entire day on just half a sandwich, running for hours with nothing to drink, she hardly had energy to stand, much less move.  

By the time she reached the First Floor, she could see that early evening was upon the castle.  Hermione trudged weakly down into the dungeons and finally made it to the entrance of Snape’s chambers.  

_______________________

 

Sitting in his leather chair, Snape seethed and stewed; Lucius had married Hermione today -  _ his  _ Hermione.  Hs glanced at the clock: 5:40; the wedding was over, and, as night approached, Lucius would be taking Hermione into bed to consummate the marriage; Lucius would be kissing her, groping her, touching parts of her body that only  _ he  _ should be seeing and touching.  

_ How could I have been so  _ stupid? _  Of course the marriage request had to be an  _ actual  **request.** _  Severus, this is your stupid fault.  Everything that man does to her - everything she has to endure - you are to blame. _

A feeble knock came at his door; Snape stood reluctantly, approaching it, “Who are you?” 

Another soft knock.  He took out his wand, aiming it, and opened the door; Hermione fell through it.

“Hermione!” Snape seized her face and pressed his lips to hers for a long moment before asking, “What happened?  How are you here - ” His obsidian eyes flitted over her state, seeing the exhaustion and dirt covering her.  “What did he do to you?”

The girl just shook her head, forcing back tears; Snape frowned deeply but nodded once, understanding that she didn’t want to discuss it right then.

Snape easily lifted Hermione into his arms, carrying her toward the bathroom, speaking softly into her ear, “You’re filthy, come.”

With a flick of his wand, he filled the claw-footed oversized tub with steaming water; Snape lowered Hermione into the hot water, lifting the slip from her as he did so.  The wizard pulled a stool to the tub, sitting behind Hermione; he lifted a plastic tub and poured water over her head, soaking the girl’s hair with several full tubs of water.  

Realizing how awkward this position was, Snape rolled up his pants and placed them in the hot water on either side of Hermione’s shoulders.  He shampooed her hair, lathering her messy curls, massaging her scalp.   As he poured more water over her head, rinsing her hair, Snape heard her sniffle.

“Did I get soap in your eyes?” he questioned; Hermione shook her head.

Snape rinsed the suds from his student’s hair, applied conditioner and rinsed this as well before summoning a washcloth and washing her back slowly; he cleaned her arms and chest, carefully running the soapy rag over her.  As he wrung water from the washcloth over her back to rinse it, Hermione placed her hand on his calf and laid her head over toward his knee, sighing before lightly kissing it, “I’m so sorry.”

“Nonsense.”

She frowned, “Not nonsense.  I’m sorry.”

Squeezing more water over her shoulders, the professor gave an exasperated growl, “You have nothing to apologize for, so don’t.”

“But you shouldn’t have to be doing this,” she protested as he came around to wash her legs.

Snape fixed her with his charcoal eyes as he ran the rag over her foot, “What, taking care of you?”

“Exactly,” Hermione said as firmly as she could with her weak, slightly shaking voice, “There’s no reason for you to - ”

Taking her other foot, Snape gave her a piercing glare, “No reason?  Don’t be foolish, Granger.”

The girl gave him an expression that Snape would have thought she was incapable of making in her current state, “Then what is this reason of yours?”

Snape’s glare intensified, “I love you.  Is that  _ reason  _ enough for you?”

_______________________

 

After lifting the girl out of the tub and wrapping her in a towel, Snape carried her to the bed to dry her off with a second towel.

He tousled her hair in the towel before using magic to finish drying it.   Snape ran the towel along her arms, torso, and back before drying her legs; he rid her calves of water and moved the towel up to dry her thighs.  Snape’s eyes found the still raw, flaring red brand of MUDBLOOD FILTH - his first emotion was, of course, fury - anger and hatred for Lucius and him inflicting such agony on Hermione and an intense desire to make him  _ thoroughly  _ regret it, but the second, just as intense, emotion was sickening regret, for when he had taken Hermione in his arms to carry her to the bath, he had told her she was filthy.

Snape, who had been on the floor to dry her legs, leapt up and joined her, sitting next to her on the bed, “Hermione.  My god, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know he’d...I didn’t mean - ”

The girl rolled over onto her side, into the fetal position, using the towel as a blanket, crying, “I - I...I can’t...I ha - hate him.  I didn - didn’t wan - want to… he - h-he made - m-made me….I - I’m s-s-so s-sorry...s-so, so, so v-v-ver-ry s-sorry.”

Remaining silent, the wizard frowned;  _ what is she apologizing for? _

“Y-y-you hav-have t-to know-w I did-didn’t w-want th-th-that...I...I’m s-so sorry.”

_ She thinks I’ll be mad that she had sex with someone else - because she was raped? _

Snape laid on the bed with her, curling around the girl, “Shh...I know, I know.  You’re okay.  You’re fine.  You’re safe now, Hermione.”

_ The same cannot be said for Lucius. _


	20. Extended Deadline

“You really should get Madam Pomfrey to look at that,” Snape said when Hermione made a tortured expression as she tried to sit cross-legged on the sofa.

“Sure,” Hermione replied, “What? ‘ _ Madam Pomfrey, just before the father of another student forced himself on me, he branded my thigh to show that I’m a piece of garbage.’, ‘Where, dear?’, ‘Right by my crotch; could you take a look?’.   _ I’m not doing that, Severus.”

Snape frowned thoughtfully, “Then I insist you let me tend to it.”

The girl looked at him, “What?” She blushed furiously.

“I’ve already seen his  _ handiwork,  _ and I hardly think you should have any qualms in regards to my hands healing you - they have, after all, ventured that way before .”

Hermione sighed in resignation, “Fine.  I suppose you’re right.”

 

_______________________

 

Snape doctored the wound, applying healing salves and medicinal potions twice a day for the following three days, remaining professional, even though he was tending the skin just a few inches beneath her core.

The area was nearly healed, no longer an open wound, and the wizard was relieved by the recovery; he brushed his fingers over the raised, still bright red mark, “How he could mar such beauty is appalling.”  

Snape lightly kissed the area.

Having not done so much as to properly kiss her since Hermione had returned, as he knew he should tread lightly after what had been done to her, Snape hesitated when he realized his mouth was against her inner thigh, very high on her leg.

“Hermione,” he spoke quietly, “Will you allow me to touch you?”

The girl looked down at him, impressed by his awareness that she would be hesitant about any sexual encounters; she nodded.

The wizard cautiously brought his hand to her body, barely touching her; he ran his fingers through the few curls, petting her, before gently tracing the folds, watching his fingers, listening closely for a sound indicating he should remove his hand.  Snape caressed her pearl tenderly as her body moistened.

He licked his lips, aching to proceed, to increase the intensity of his touch, but refrained.  Snape leisurely stroked her, occasionally trailing a single finger down over her entrance, never sliding inside.  He lightly grazed over her bead, sweeping around it before slowly rubbing circles over it.  Hermione shifted and a faint sigh escaped her.

The girl groped the air and bedsheets, searching for his unoccupied hand; when she found it, Hermione placed her own hand atop his.   _ Why is he being so tender, so gentle, so understanding?  Most men would have been eagerly assaulting me, taking advantage of my vulnerability.  He isn’t.   _

“Severus.”

Snape pulled away and rose to his feet; Hermione took his hand again to pull the wizard so he was sitting next to her.

“I just realized something,” Hermione said in a shy, quiet voice, sitting up, “When I first came back...and you gave me a bath - do you remember?”

“Of course.”

“Well...you - you told me something.  Why you were taking care of me.”

Snape’s dark eyes flicked away from hers, “Yes.  I did.”

The student looked at him; he was determinedly avoiding her eyes, a faint tinge of pink in his cheeks, his black eyebrows furrowed, forming a knot above his nose.

“I just...I thought you should know that I love you, as well.”

The wizard turned his gaze back to her suddenly, sighing.

“That’s a relief.”

“ ‘ _ That’s a relief’?  _ How touching,” she laughed.  “You know...I was thinking.  There’s something that you not-really asked me before the whole mess with  _ him _ and I figured -”

“Don’t, Hermione.  Don’t you dare ask for my hand,” Snape said firmly but with a vague sort of smirk on his face.

The girl pouted.

“I hardly think that’s how you imagined making that decision,” Snape gave a slight smirk before tossing her pajama shorts at her, “Put your pants black on; it’s well past time for bed.”

 

_______________________

 

The following afternoon, a fire suddenly erupted in Snape’s fireplace and an envelope fluttered out of the flames.  The professor opened it, his face darkening as he read the letter inside.

“Is something wrong?” Hermione asked, seeing the change in his expression.

His eyes lifted from the paper, “It’s not clear; Dumbledore wants us to come to his office.”

“What?  When?”

“Before your next lesson; he noticed you weren’t at lunch.”

The girl stood, looking worried and anxious, “Alright, then.”

Her anxiety increased exponentially when they arrived in the headmaster’s office to see Dumbledore was not alone; the Minister of Magic was there.  And Lucius Malfoy stood next to him, looking smug.

Snape jerked his wand out of his cloak and pointed it at the pompous wizard, “Cruc -”

“Severus,” Dumbledore spoke, stopping the Unforgivable Curse.

Snape’s black eyes shifted momentarily to the old man before flitting back to Lucius, reluctantly lowering his wand, “You are despicable.”

Lucius just smirked.

“Miss Granger,” Fudgee looked on edge, “It seems, well, it’s come to The Ministry’s attention that you failed to wed by the stipulated date.  I’m afraid you are breaking the law simply by being unmarried.  I’m sorry to say that I must, therefore, have you sent to Azkaban; Aurors will arrive tomorrow to take you into custody.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“NO!” Snape roared, “Have you lost your mind?  The only reason she isn’t married is because her  _ fiancé  _ was a psychopath.”

“Remarkable, Severus, how quickly you toss insults that are neither well-articulated or well-founded; it is not  _ my  _ fault that Miss Granger failed to follow the law.  Indeed, I was prepared to marry her myself on the final day of the allotted time frame, so as to spare her from this awful fate.”

“Do not attempt to pretend that you didn’t plan this; you intended to have her thrown in prison, didn’t you?”

The blonde wizard smirked, “I admit, it was always an option, but I reserved judgement until after bedding her; it turns out that she is not worth what I paid, after all - she’s not that entertaining.” He flitted is cold, silver eyes to Hermione then back to Snape, “Although, I am quite positive she disagrees; Granger certainly seemed to enjoy it, judging from all the screaming.”

Snape pounced on Lucius, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him roughly against the wall; Dumbledore and Fudge looked stunned, but were apparently too shocked to intervene.  Lucius drew his wand on Snape and propelled him back several feet, “Let’s settler this property, wizard to wizard.”

Snape growled, “No.  Man to man.  Halfway.  Now.”  He snatched Lucius’s wand and tossed it onto the headmaster’s desk.

When Lucius tried to pick it up, Snape hissed, “Leave it.” before shoving Malfoy out the door.

As soon as the heavy door closed behind them, Snape threw Lucius against the stone wall and hit him in the chin with all of his strength.  Lucius seemed stunned and looked at Snape with vague fear; the older wizard had never been in a physical confrontation - he had always used magic.  Snape struck him again, punching Lucius in the eye.

The blonde wizard sneered, “All this for a dirty Mudblood?”

Grabbing his collar again, Snape pulled Lucius from the wall slightly before slamming his head back into it; he got very close to his face, “Don’t  _ ever  _ call her that.”

Lucius slid down to the floor after having his skull bashed into the rock wall once again.  Snape pulled him back up and punched him repeatedly; he didn’t stop hitting the man, even as he felt his bones crack under his knuckles, trying to beat the arrogant smirk off his face.

When Lucius was bearing two black eyes, a badly busted lip, and a nose that was obviously horrifically broken, every inch of his visage bloody, Snape let him fall to the floor, breathing heavily.

“S - Severus?” Hermione’s voice hesitantly spoke behind him.

Snape turned to face her; she noticed his knuckles were split, “Wh - why did you -”

Dumbledore and Fudge exited the headmaster’s office.  Seeing the badly beaten wizard on the floor, unconscious, Dumbledore simply said, “You should consider getting him to the infirmary.”

“I will do no such thing,” Snape said bluntly, “He earned this.”

Shaking his head, Fudge sighed and stepped around Snape to levitate Lucius, “I’ll get him there, Albus.  But stay until I return, both of you.”

“Miss Granger, I believe you were on your way to Charms,” Dumbledore spoke, dismissing the girl.

 

_______________________

 

“Do you know what this monster did to her?” Snape heatedly asked Dumbledore and Fudge, who had returned from taking Lucius to the Hospital Wing,.

“He  **branded** her!  He branded her like cattle!  She had a wound on her inner thigh that read ‘ _ Mudblood Filth _ ’.  He branded her just before he raped her!  He branded her there specifically to claim that... _ part _ of her body as his property.  Did you really expect this girl to  _ marry  _ her rapist, her  _ mutilator _ ?”

“Severus,” Fudge said, “Considering Lucius is extremely well-regarded in the wizarding community, we cannot dismiss Miss Granger’s crime simply because she told you that - she very well could have just said this in an effort to excuse her behavior.”

“Come now, we can always ask Poppy,” Dumbledore offered, “She is, after all, our resident Healer and is very trustworthy; she wouldn’t lie.”

Snape looked very uncomfortable for a long moment, “Poppy...Poppy didn’t heal her, Albus.”  His dark, obsidian eyes silently pleading.

Dumbledore gave a faint smile and a miniscule nod, “Cornelius, I believe your services are no longer needed.  I’m certain the Ministry won’t object to a marriage having not taken place by the said date, as long as a marriage is agreed to, especially when the wizard they had originally been betrothed to had recently made a large donation to the very government demanding she marry.”

The not-so-subtle implication that Dumbledore would inform the wizarding community that the Ministry had taken a payment in exchange for a girl immediately silenced Fudge.

The Minister disappeared into green flames on the hearth.

“Albus, I would sincerely appreciate it if you were not to tell Miss Granger about this.”

“Of course, my dear boy,” Dumbledore nodded, his blue eyes twinkling knowingly.

 

_______________________

 

After her last class the next day, Hermione glumly went to Snape’s quarters to tell him goodbye.  She had no idea how to do that; Hermione had never imagined that she would have to bid the man a permanent farewell.

Snape stood from his wingback chair and went to her; she had tears in her eyes, and when he wrapped her in his arms, they spilled over.

“Sev - Severus...I can’t believe I have...have to go...I don’t want to leave...”

“Don’t let the Dementors take all your happiness, Hermione,” Snape soothed, “You are too good for them to destroy you; just focus on your happiest moments.”

She sniffled, “You know they’re all of you, right?”

Giving her a sad sort of smile, Snape kissed her lips softly, “I love you, Hermione; never forget that.”

She started bawling; Snape briefly considered refusing to have her go to Dumbledore’s office for Aurors to arrest her, but quickly reminded himself of the issues that would cause.

“Goodbye, Severus,” Hermione said miserably as she left to head to Dumbledore’s office.

 

_______________________

 

Stamping an envelope with a plain wax seal, Dumbledore heard a knock at his door; he gave his owl the envelope, whispering something as he stroked its feathers before sending it out the window.

“Come in.”

Hermione entered nervously.

“Ah, hello, Miss Granger.” 

“Hi...hi, Professor; wh-where are the...the Aur-Aurors?”

Dumbledore opened his pocketwatch, “They should be here in ten minutes.”

“Oh.”   _ I could have spent those ten minutes with Severus. _

“How are you doing, Miss Granger?”

She blinked at him, “I...I-I’m about to have to go to Azkaban.”

There was a very uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

Dumbledore looked at his pocketwatch again, “Lemon Drop?” He offered the girl.

Hermione shook her head.

“I do hope Professor Snape wasn’t too difficult to stay with.”

The girl looked at him, “Oh, no.  He was actually very good company.”

“You think so?”

She smiled, “Yes.  It’s a tragedy that no one sees that side of him…”

Dumbledore smiled to himself and checked his watch again; she’d been there for almost ten minutes.  

He coughed loudly.

A tap came at his window; Dumbledore stood and retrieved the envelope he had just sent.  Taking it to his desk and sitting to pore over the paper, he frowned.

“Oh dear,” he said.

“Is something wrong?”

“It seems the Aurors who were supposed to come retrieve you got unexpectedly held up during a raid.”

He scribbled a reply and gave the envelope to the owl before sitting back down, “I cannot imagine the anxiety you feel, Miss Granger, but if you would stay, at least until I sort this out.l

She nodded.

Fifteen minutes of awkward silence passed before Dumbledore checked the time again and coughed.

An owl tapped on the window.

The wizard jumped to get the letter; after reading it, he sighed, wrote a reply and sent it.  

This went on for an hour and a half before Dumbledore checked his watch again, coughed, then received another envelope from his owl.  The old man sat heavily, sighing as his eyes flicked over the blank page for the twelfth time , “Miss Granger, It seems that Cornelius has reconsidered, and, after brooding over the notion of having to admit Lucius purchased you, he has decided to extend your deadline.  You will not be going to Azkaban.”

She could have screamed with relief, but all she wanted to do was go tell Snape; Hermione jumped up, “Oh!  Thank you!  Thank goodness!  Oh my!”

Dumbledore smiled brightly, “Yes!  It is wonderful! I do, believe, however, considering the amount of time you’ve been here, you’re quite anxious to leave.  Go.”  

Once the door had closed behind her, Dumbledore immediately Flooed Snape.

_______________________

 

Hermione dashed to the dungeons as quickly as possible.  She hardly slowed down to wonder why the wards were down and the marble wall gone before entering.  

“Severus?” she called, not seeing him in the living area or kitchenette.  The girl checked his private brewing lab before reentering the sitting room.

“In here,” she heard from the bedroom.

Hermione opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks.

“You said you wanted romance,” Snape spoke, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed.  The room was dim, softly lit by candles, tapers on the end table, pillar candles on a few shelves, votives scattered here and there.

Snape pushed himself off the wall and approached her, “What took you so long?”

She didn’t respond, unable to speak, even if she could have found words.

“Hermione,” Snape’s voice was almost a whisper, “Look at me.”

Her face was flushed and her eyes wide, “What...what is…?”

“You said you wanted romance,” he repeated, taking her hand in his.  “This is romance,” he lowered himself to his knee, “When you asked why I took care of you, I told you it’s because I love you.  I want to take care of you forever.  Will you let me do that?  Will you be my wife?” Snape took a glittering ring out of his tunic pocket, “Marry me?”

Hermione nodded, tears forming quickly in her eyes, “Of course I will.”

Snape slipped the ring onto the girl’s finger then stood and grabbed her face in both hands, kissing her desperately.

She wrapped her arms around the man and pulled him closer, eager and thrilled to be with her wizard.

Breathless from the lengthy enthusiastic kiss, Snape moved slightly away, his hands still holding her face, “Hermione...I know it’s been difficult for you, since being away, but I don’t think I can do without you tonight.”

She pressed her mouth to his, sliding her tongue over Snape’s in response.

He slowly ran his slightly calloused but still soft hands beneath her shirt, gliding over her skin as he lifted the top up and over her head.  Snape took time to slowly kiss her again before tracing his fingers up her spine to unclasp Hermione’s bra; he let his fingers brush down her arms as he lowered the straps, letting the undergarment fall to the floor.  

Unzipping his student's skirt, he continued kissing her, although softly and sweetly this time.  Hermione tried to rid him of his clothing, but Snape wouldn’t allow it; he took her hands and moved them away from his buttons each time she attempted to unfasten them.  The wizard pulled her panties down at a glacial pace then stepped slightly back and just gazed at her.  

Hermione was nude, standing bare in his bedroom, the candlelight flickering softly on her skin; he thought this must be how divine beings looked.  

Snape stepped back to her, softly taking her hand and leading her to the bed.


	21. Another Diversion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter of smut.  
> Enjoy! =D

“So, I have some news,” Hermione said as she sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall for dinner the following night.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, only half as interested in what the girl had to say as he was with the mashed potatoes on his plate.

She tried to ease her friends into the fact that she was going to be marrying their least favorite professor - possibly their least favorite person, “Obviously you’ve noticed that the wedding of me to Mister Malfoy didn’t happen, but I’ve -”

“Yeah, what happened with that, anyway?” Ron’s mouth was full of pork chop as he asked.

“Apparently Mister Malfoy had done something that made the Minister...hesitant to allow that union to occur,” Hermione, for some reason, didn’t want the boys and Ginny to know he had outright purchased her.

“Well, that’s awfully lucky for you,” the dark-haired boy said.

Hermione nodded and continued, “Well, the Minister decided to give me another two weeks, considering that he was the reason I missed the deadline or whatever.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Ginny half-smiled.

Harry frowned, “Since the deadline’s already passed, won’t your choices be a lot less, though?”

Hermione pressed her lips together before quietly saying, “I’ve already chosen someone.”

“That’s good,” Ron and Harry said in unison.

Ginny looked at the boys, baffled that was all they had to say; she turned her attention back to Hermione, “That certainly was quick; who is it?”  
Hermione had feebly hoped that she wouldn’t have to tell them, that perhaps they could remain ignorant until after the marriage; she didn’t want to have to endure the remarks she knew they’d make.

Bracing herself, Hermione sighed to calm her irrational nerves then answered, “Professor Snape.”

Three pairs of eyes snapped to her, wide with shock and disbelief.

“You’re joking!” Ron said, “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Harry narrowed his green eyes, “How - he - _**what?**_ ”

“Yes. Professor Snape.”

Ginny looked thoughtful for a few moments before saying to the boys, “Oh, well, I guess he was the only still available one on her list.”

Harry and Ron both made faces of disgust and sympathy, but seemed to be less put off.

“No, Ginny; there were actually eight others,” Hermione calmly corrected.

“Wait...you _chose_ him?” Harry looked very nearly sick.

“Yes,” she stated simply.

“Why in the bloody hell would you do that?”

The girl frowned at the red-haired boy, “Because, Ronald, it just so happens that you guys don’t know even the slightest thing about him: he is funny, and intelligent, very interesting, and he’s a good man. And I love him.”

Harry placed the back of his hand on her forehead, “Hermione, are you feeling alright? Are you sure the bat hasn’t slipped a love potion in your drink?”

Hermione smacked his hand away, jumping up from the table, “You three really are awful, you know that?” She rushed out of the Great Hall, her eyes flooded with tears.

Sitting at the Head Table, Snape’s obsidian eyes narrowed as he saw Hermione run from the room; _she must have told her friends._ He stood abruptly and hurried out of the Hall himself.

The wizard knew the secret passageways of the castle even better than the Weasley twins and was able to get to the corridor outside his chambers before Hermione. Running down the hall, Hermione was suddenly enveloped in black fabric, strong arms wrapping around her as she crashed into her professor.

“Stop crying,” Snape said softly, “It’s alright, sweet. You’re alright.”

After just a few minutes, Hermione had calmed, “I told them that I chose you. They were horrible. I hate them.”

Taking her face in his hands, Snape lifted her gaze to his, “No you don’t. They were unprepared. You know they’ve not liked me for five years; did you really expect that to change in an instant?”

Hermione looked up at the wizard. Damn his rationality.

“Dry your eyes,” Snape kissed her lips softly before they entered their chambers.

_______________________

“Where do you reckon he’s off to in such a hurry?” Ron asked after seeing the Potions Master rush from the Great Hall.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged.

Ginny’s brown eyes flicked from the giant doors to the Head Table and back several times, “Do you think maybe he was going after her?”

“After who?” Ron scooped more potatoes into his mouth.

“After Hermione, dumbo.”

The boy nearly choked, “That’s likely.”

“Yeah,” Harry added, “It’s Snape. When has he ever cared about anyone?Never.”

“That you know of; maybe he actually does care about her. I mean, I’ve never seen him run like that...have either of you?”

They had to admit they hadn’t.

_______________________

Still quietly weeping, Hermione tried to pay attention to what Snape was saying, but her friends’ words were ringing in her ears: _he was probably the only one still available on her list. You **chose** him? You’re joking. Why would you do a thing like that? _  
She needed to get her thoughts to something else.

Hermione sniffled and got up, going to the bathroom. She tried to think of other things, like homework assignments or essays, but nothing distracted her enough. She splashed water on her face and dried her tears before exiting the bathroom.

“Um, Severus,” she called quietly.

Snape entered the bedroom, “Yes?”

Hermione’s voice was nervous and shy, “I - I think I…” she looked everywhere except him, “I think I need...a...something to get my mind off their reaction.”

The wizard raised an eyebrow, “A _diversion_?”

She nodded as her cheeks flamed.

“Do you, now?”

She blushed even brighter red and nodded, “I do. Will you help with that?”

Smirking with amusement and smugness, Snape gave a tortured sigh, “I suppose…”

Hermione frowned softly, “Don’t be mean to me.”

The professor stepped quickly to her, taking her upper arms and pressing her into the wall, “But that’s part of the fun, Miss Granger.” Snape captured her lips with his, kissing her with hunger as his hands moved to her jawline.

Snape’s tongue invaded the girl’s mouth, holding her against the wall; a hand lowered to her neck, a dominating act of authority. Hermione knew he would never actually restrict her breathing, but the knowledge that he could was strangely exhilarating.

He abruptly left her mouth to growl, “Bed. _Now_.”

The girl obeyed, lying on the bed willingly.

Snape narrowed his eyes, “Don’t you think you’re overdressed? I swear, Granger, I have to do everything; it’s grating on my nerves.”

Although he complained, he quickly rid her of her clothes, enjoying the hasty, furious ripping of them from her body.

“Hippogriff, remember?” he repeated the word she should say if she wanted him to stop whatever he was doing; Hermione nodded.

This time, he bound her arms down by her sides, rather than above her head.

“You know, Granger, in comparison, I’ve received less oral gratification from you than you have from me; I say we fix this injustice,” Snape seized her shoulders, moving her to the edge of the bed, then stood by her. He dropped his pants and pulled his member from his boxers, “Open,” he commanded.

Hermione opened her mouth and let him push himself into it. She sucked as he thrust repeatedly for several minutes.

“Prepare yourself,” Snape said before driving himself fully inside her mouth and into her throat. He gave her a reprieve then did this again. Four times.

The wizard growled, “That’s what your mouth is for, not asking incessant questions.” He smirked at her then stripped off his clothes before climbing atop her; Snape groped her breasts, manhandling them, twisting her nipples. He lazily lifted his wand and placed it on a bud; Hermione felt a zap of electricity on the nub and she squealed.

After giving her breasts the attention they deserved, Snape opened the girl’s legs. He pressed firmly on the bead between her legs let a millisecond long zap fall on her clit, causing her to scream. He slid three fingers inside her, then four; Hermione arched her back and moaned. The wizard’s dark eyes flicked to her face as he slowly pushed deeper than ever before. The girl gasped then sighed.

“Alright?” Snape asked.

Hermione nodded, panting, “Yes. I...I am wonder-oh! wonderful...”

The wizard smirked, pressing farther inside her body, “What do you want from me?”

Insecure and shy, Hermione bit her lip, “What you - _mm!_ \- what you did b-before...last time, I hoped you’d do that again.”

“Why? What precisely do you hope for?” Snape asked, still moving his fingers within her. “Tell me,” he purred.

“It’s...I want...please - I’m crazy,” the girl spoke quietly and nervously.

“Don’t be shy,” Snape breathed at her ear before he bit her shoulder fiercely.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip, partially because of how tingly and warm her professor was making her feel, and partially from nervousness about being honest; she panted, “When... _ah!_...when you were doing things to...to my bottom -” She mustered all her bravery and confidence, “That felt really good, when you...when you f-fucked my ass…”

Snape pulled his hands from her and kissed her briefly, bringing his thumb to her lips, “I do so enjoy hearing such filthy words come from this beautiful mouth. What else would you like?”

The girl thought for a moment before answering in what she assumed was an alluring, sultry voice, “I just want you to fuck me. That’s all I want - for you to fuck me.” She couldn't believe her own words; _since when was she so brazen? Since when did Hermione Granger talk like that?_

“I believe I can do that, _Miss Granger._ ” Snape emphasized the formal use of her name, “If you ask nicely.”

Hermione smirked up at the man, “Will you fuck me, Professor?”

He grabbed her thighs, opening her legs as far as possible before shoving himself inside her.

He lifted her torso up and drove deeper. Snape delved inside her body, alternating between slow, deep thrusts and faster, pounding strokes. Hermione felt as though he was hitting something unimaginably deep within her body, reaching an unreachable, undiscovered location. The girl’s eyes closed in pleasure, she didn’t see Snape’s hand moving back up to her neck; she only felt the presence of his hand, holding her throat again as he shoved into her.

When she opened her eyes, Hermione saw him watching her; he was obviously very much enjoying her submission.

“Beg,” he growled.

Hermione panted, “For what?”

“Whatever you want - beg for it.”

Snape was the only one she had sex with - excluding Lucius forcing himself on her - so she was unlearned in the various tactics and actions, so she was completely unprepared for this.

Hesitantly, Hermione spoke, “Um...do it harder? Please?”

“You can do better than that. Just whatever you want, ask. Beg me for something, anything.”

She swallowed hard, “Harder. Severus, harder, please, please harder.”

Snape roughly drove farther into her, “How _dare_ you use my first name? I am your teacher, Miss Granger; I deserve respect.”

“Sorry. Please harder, Professor,” Hermione whined.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised her, firmly driving himself inside her, “What, precisely, do you want me to do harder? Fuck you?”

Hermione nodded, “Yes…”

Snape growled, the weight of his hand heavy on her neck, “Say it.”

The girl, still not used to speaking like this, meekly whispered, “F-fu-ck me har-d-der?”

“That was hardly persuasive. Convince me that’s what you want.”

Hermione wished he would just do what he knew she was saying, but he was being stubborn; the result was that she spoke with desperation, “Please fuck me harder. _Please_.”

The wizard obliged, forcefully slamming his member inside her, “That’s how you get what you want, Granger. Is” _slam_ “this” _slam_ “better?” _slam_.

“Yessss…”

“Yes _sir_ ,” he growled, correcting her.

“Yes sir... _oh!_ Fuck me hard...please. _Oh, god!_ ”

Snape growled in his chest. “Miss Granger, dear Merlin, you are so fucking tight...your pussy is perfect. And it’s mine. Do you understand? _Mine_.”

Hermione whimpered in pleasure, “Yes sir, it’s yours. My cunt is yours, Professor.”

Snape grabbed her hips, lifting them up toward his merciless thrusts, pulling her down against each rough stroke.

The man’s pleasure in hearing his young student say very adult things gave Hermione an idea.

“Professor...I need you to take my ass. Please. Let me feel you in my ass. Just fuck it as hard as you can.”

His mouth on the girl’s throat, Snape groaned, “I’m going to try your other hole, claim it as mine, as well. I don’t need your permission, child. I will do whatever I want to you and you will be happy for it. As a matter of fact, I will destroy it if I wish.”

Violently turning her onto her stomach, Snape slammed into her bottom; Hermione moaned sensually.

“What am I doing to you, Miss Granger?” he wanted to hear the girl speak so naughtily.

“You... _ah!_ You’re f-fu-fucking my asshole. Hard. _Ooh_...Professor... _gods_ , it’s so good. Don’t stop. Please.”

Snape drilled farther, “I’m not going to stop. I’ll fuck this hole until you can’t sit down. I’ve never felt anything so small; it’s perfect.” He viciously pummeled her, sometimes seizing her shoulders or hair to yank her back onto him, sometimes holding her bottom, opening the pillows to fix his dark eyes on the hole he was taking.

Without warning, Hermione arched her back and shrieked, overwrought by an explosive rush of pleasure and euphoria. Snape rammed her harder, shoving his entire length into her, spreading her cheeks to witness his rod buried within her, his pelvis flush with her ass. Even as she trembled, the wizard grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back farther. Snape moved his hand down to slide four fingers into her pussy and press his thumb on her bead. When he felt her slowly calm, he fiercely pinched her pearl and returned his fingers into her.

“ _Again_ ,” he demanded, “Come again.”

The girl wailed in pleasure as his fingers slid deeper inside her, his knuckles barely outside the opening; he smirked. Just as she was calming again, Snape pressed down on her bead hard, growling, “ _Again_.”

Hermione obeyed, unable to prevent the third explosion within her body, even if she had wanted to. The pulsating clenching and releasing of her ass around him brought Snape to the brink; he removed his member from her and took several deep, calming breaths. The wizard turned her over onto her back once again and returned his fingers to her, only softly pressing two fingers in her.

She whimpered, “No...keep doing what...like before.”

Snape gave a smirk, “I’m afraid I don’t know what exactly you mean.”

Hermione groaned, “Yes you do.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Your hand...in me...please, Professor.”

Snape licked his lips, “My _hand_ was not in you before.” He added his other fingers and cautiously pushed inside her, his knuckles disappearing within her causing the girl to whimper, “ _Now_ my hand is in you.”

Hermione made a slightly pained face as he pressed inside her.

The wizard looked at her, “Hippogriff?”

She shook her head, barely whispering, “No. Keep... _ah!_ More…”

Snape pulled away, “No. You aren’t ready for more. I have no desire to cause you actual injury.”

“You are so mean,” Hermione panted.

The professor frowned, “Perhaps. But not cruel. Now hush.”  
He touched his student’s bead, causing her to jump, the bundle of nerves extremely sensitive after three orgasms.

The man massaged her clit, occasionally sliding his fingers down to slip inside her briefly. The girl was soon trembling in ecstasy, peaking for a fourth time.

Snape held her legs open and pressed as hard as he could on her pearl, sending the fifth earthquake through her. He ran his hand down her body, the arousal covering his fingers and palm.

Diving between her legs, he devoured her, wrapping his hands around her thighs. Snape licked her body, growling at the flavor, “Miss Granger, your pussy is absolutely delicious, are you aware of this?”

She shook her head.

Snape sharply bit her pearl, sending her reeling, being overtaken by yet another onslaught of bliss. The girl gushing more arousal, Snape collected the wetness on his hand and rose to hover above her, bringing his fingers to her lips, “Taste.”

Hermione looked briefly stunned, but let her tongue flick out to quickly lick his fingers.

“That was not enough to taste; here,” Snape slid two of his fingers into her mouth, having her suck the juice from his digits.

After casting a silent _Scourgifying_ charm on his member, Snape thrust inside her soaked body, his fingers still in her mouth. He delved inside Hermione, shoving as deeply as he could.

The student arched her back, the sudden and deep penetration sending her over the edge again. Snape pinched her pearl, stacking another bout of bliss on top of the last; her body tightened unbelievably and he shoved farther into her, erupting deep inside her.

After removing himself from within her, the professor continued to rub her body, dipping into her occasionally. Hermione squirmed, “What...why…”

Snape coaxed her into another overwhelming earthquake of ecstasy, then another, piling pleasure atop pleasure. Hermione trembled uncontrollably, her eyes rolling back in her head as she was forced into another orgasm. She thought for sure she was going to pass out, but her professor never stopped stacking bliss on bliss.

“P-pl-please…” she whimpered, not sure if she was pleading for him to stop or continue, “Please... _oh!_ ”

She was consumed by the tenth earthquake, ecstasy ripping through her, tearing her in two as her vision beheld fireworks and her hearing muted, “ _Ohhh_ , Professor! Yes! Jesus, _ohh!_ ”

“Good girl,” Snape breathed, “Very good. Keep coming for me, Miss Granger.”

Hermione couldn’t have contained herself if she tried; her shriek rang through their chambers and echoed off the walls.


	22. If I Could

"Have you informed your parents, love?" Snape questioned.

Hermione looked up from her homework, "Of what?"

"The latest Weird Sisters' upcoming album," he responded sarcastically, "That you're going to be getting married, obviously."

She frowned, "No.  Mister Malfoy wasn't going to allow them to come when I was marrying him, so - "

"Yes, but I am not Lucius, and I cannot imagine you wishing your parents not being present, much less that they remain oblivious."

Hermione blinked several times, "But...we're at Hogwarts and my parents are Muggles; Muggles don't come to Hogwarts."

"Would you like your parents to be there?" he returned his book to the shelf.

The girl nodded, "Of course, but I don't see how that will ev - "

Snape sat on the sofa next to her, "Then they will be.  Exceptions can be made, and I will be sure this is one of those exceptions."

She smiled brightly, " _Really_?  You think you can do that?"

"You doubt me?  As you are well aware, I can be very _persuasive_."

"Have I told you recently that I love you?" Hermione asked.

"Not recently enough, in my opinion," the man smirked, "but, then, I daresay I would never complain for hearing that."

The student grinned and gave him an enthusiastic but brief kiss.

_______________________

"I will not stand for it, Albus!  The simple idea of it - it is just preposterous!"

Dumbledore frowned, "You are aware, yes, that the Minister hasn't objected?"

"I don't care!  He was surely uninformed that the Granger girl has been residing with the professor!"

"I hardly see the issue; needless to say, the pair will certainly be living together once they are married, Dolores."

Umbridge huffed, " _If_ they get married - which they won't, if I have anything to say about it."

_______________________

"What is this nonsense I hear about Miss Granger marrying Severus?" McGonagall entered Dumbledore's office.

Snape lifted his index finger in greeting to the Deputy Headmistress, not uncrossing his arms, "It's hardly nonsense, Minerva; we are engaged to be married."

McGonagall blinked several times at the wizard before stammering, "B-but...h-h-how is that even - why?"

"It seems Severus was on the list of Miss Granger's options for the Muggle-Born Marriage Mandate, and our Potions Master has reluctantly agreed."

Snape's eyebrows knotted together, "Forgive my correction, Albus, but I was far from reluctant."

The witch's face contorted in confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

"I asked Miss - Hermione to be my wife, willingly and unconcerned about the law."

McGonagall frowned speculatively at the younger man for a short while then sighed, "She will be of age very soon, so I suppose you're both adults; however, please do keep the fact that she is underage in mind, and refrain from any _physical_ encounters."

Snape looked out the window, shifting his gaze away from her guiltily.

"Oh, Severus!  You _didn't!_ "

The wizard stretched his hands and cleared his throat.

"You know that you could be arrested!" McGonagall scolded.

"Come now, Minerva, I'm sure Severus knew better than to do anything before the marriage request - after all, this new law has quite literally sanctioned underage fornication," Dumbledore spoke.

McGonagall shuddered at the thought of _underage fornication_ , but she had to acknowledge the old man was right.

"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order," she said.

"Hardly, Minerva," Umbridge let herself into the office.

"We've already discussed this, Dolores," Dumbledore spoke firmly but wearily.

The woman gave an irritatingly girlish giggle, "Yes, but, you see, it just so happens that, as High Inquisitor, I have the right to expel students...and, Severus, considering your position requires you to reside at the castle, a marriage would surely be very near impossible, as you would be living so very far apart."

"You may have the capability to expel students, but not without a sound cause," Dumbledore stated.

Umbridge huffed, "Well, I do not approve of this ' _marriage_ ' and I have the authority to stop it."

"I see," Snape spoke calmly, "The Minister of Magic has approved it; is your _authority_ greater than his?"

The High Inquisitor pursed her lips, heading to leave; as she passed by Snape, she spoke quietly, so he was the only one who could hear, "I'm sure you know, Severus, that I give _unorthodox_ detentions; I am always capable of thinking up new punishments for students, and, trust me when I say that, after serving a few with me, your _bride_ will be begging to cancel the marriage."

Snape seized the sleeve of her jacket, preventing her from continuing past him, and hissed, just as quietly, "Did you just _threaten_ my fiancé?  Trust me when I say that, should you threaten her a second time, you will not live to do it a third."  He violently released her jacket.

"What on Earth was that?" McGonagall asked in a worried voice once Umbridge was gone.

The Potions Master shrugged in response to the witch, "Umbridge was under the very incorrect assumption that I would stand for her threatening my fiancé; I was just setting her straight."

McGonagall looked thoughtfully at him for a moment, "So the ' _insufferable know-it-all_ ' really has changed you?"

Snape frowned slightly, "Not entirely, Minerva; don't go knitting me sweaters."

_______________________

"Umbridge said _what_?" Hermione exclaimed after Snape had told her of the 'conversation' they had had.

"She would find some horrible thing to assign you in detentions that would cause you to... _reconsider_ going through with the marriage," the wizard sneered at the thought, sitting heavily in his stately leather chair with a worrisome sigh, "and, knowing that woman, I can say with certainty that she does not make idle threats."

Hermione's brow furrowed; she came to stand in front of her professor and placed her hands on either side of his face, lifting it, "Nothing she'd do would ever make me change my mind.  I don't care about that stupid law; I want to marry you because I want to marry _you_.  I want to marry you because I love you, Severus Snape.  It doesn't matter what anyone does - I will still love you, and, damn it, Severus, I will marry you even if I have to _Imperius_ everyone - including you.  Do you understand?"

The man faintly smiled up at her, "Even _me_?  You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, yes, even you...although, I hope I wouldn't have to."

Snape reached up to take her waist and pulled her into his lap so that she was sitting with her legs draped across his thighs, "Surely you know me better than that.  I would marry you right this moment if I could."

Hermione kissed his lips softly, "Why can't you?"


	23. An Embarrassing Encounter

_**First of all:**_ I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! I hosted a Christmas Eve party that was actually Harry Potter themed. With any luck, your holidays were magical, as well!

This is a relatively short chapter - I do apologize - but it's not easy to make your dining room look like the Great Hall.

____________________________________________________________

After several long discussions, Snape had finally convinced Hermione that a somewhat-spontaneous marriage wasn't a good idea: for one, it would give the appearance that they were doing it quickly as simply an effort to get around whatever Umbridge would devise, there was no way that a sudden marriage would live up to Hermione's expectations and fantasies about her wedding (Snape seemed very concerned about this), and that her parents wouldn't be there, which she wanted very much.

"Is this good enough, my _dear fiancé_?" Hermione thrust a paper toward him; Snape had found fault in some aspect of the three previous attempts she'd made at writing a letter to her parents to inform them of, give an explanation for, and invite them to their ceremony.

Snape took the parchment and read it slowly; he looked at her, "Much better than your prior dismal letters; you portrayed the situation as one you were loathe to be involved in. I would never have thought someone so intelligent to be so very inept at penmanship." He smirked teasingly at her.

"I don't like you," Hermione frowned, snatching the letter back as she plopped onto the sofa beside the professor.

Snape's smirk grew, "Evidence suggests otherwise." He snuck a kiss onto her neck.

She swatted him away, laughing softly, "No, I'm mad at you."

The wizard fixed her with a determined expression, "You're not as stubborn as you think." Snape gave her jaw another stealthy kiss before pressing his lips demandingly to hers.

The girl half-heartedly pushed at him, not wanting to stop the kiss, but not wanting to lose, either, "No, I really don't like you. You're mean," she managed to get out during the seconds his mouth wasn't preventing words as he kissed her insistently.

The wizard spoke against her lips, "You really need to learn how to be quiet." He easily took her waist and pulled her onto his lap, enthusiastically kissing her lips. Hermione gave up any shred of hope to win and let his tongue slip into her mouth as his hands held her hips. Snape slid his palms beneath her shirt and lifted it off, dropping the garment to the floor. He brought his mouth to her collarbone and let his hand find her small breast. The man leisurely kissed her, softly moving his lips on hers and brushing her tongue with his as his fingers traced up her spine to the clasp of her bra.

"Severus - oh my..." a blaze of flames burst to life in the fireplace and Dumbledore's head appeared in the fire.

Hermione jumped, startled, as Snape dropped his hand down from her back, halfway through unhooking the undergarment, even though Hermione was straddling him, shirtless, he didn't want Dumbledore to know what was going on.

"Merlin, Albus!" Snape helped Hermione tug back on her shirt and climb out of his lap, "Can a man get no p -"

"Dear me, I am shocked at your language, Severus!"

The Potions Master narrowed his eyes, "For Christ's sake, I was going to say privacy."

Hermione felt her face burn with embarrassment.

"Now, Headmaster, why have you made this sudden intrusion?" Snape asked, irritated, once he straightened his robes.

"I thought it prudent to tell you that Delores is growing more and more belligerent in regards to allowing Miss Granger more time than the other witches and wizards were granted to adhere to the law. I strongly advise you to have your marriage as soon as possible, before she convinces the Ministry that Miss Granger be assigned a husband, rather than permitting her to choose."

Snape frowned deeply, "I despise that woman, Albus."

Waving her hand dismissively, Hermione shushed her professor, "That's irrelevant, Severus. We're getting married next Saturday, sir. Surely that's soon enough."

Dumbledore's disembodied head nodded once, "Very well. And your parents will be attending? I do hope they take advantage of this unprecedented opportunity for Muggles to come to the castle."

Sighing heavily, Snape rubbed his forehead, "Hermione was just sending off the letter. Now, Albus, is that all?"

Giving the younger wizard a slightly scolding look, Dumbledore answered, "Yes, that was all. I thought it urgent that you know not to dawdle. Now, I will leave you be. Carry on with...whatever it was you were doing."

As the Headmaster's head disappeared from the fire, Hermione buried her face in Snape's shoulder, "Oh my god! That was _mortifying_!"

Snape ran his fingers through her hair, "The man has no sense of boundaries."

She snarled, "And I can't believe that he thought you were going to say...oh, I'm humiliated, Severus!"

"Put it out of your mind," he kissed her forehead, "It will seem less traumatic tomorrow."

The girl sighed, nodding.

"Although, Dumbledore is, after all, the Headmaster - we are his subordinates, and should follow any instructions he gives," Snape cocked an eyebrow, "And I do believe he told us to continue with whatever we had been doing."

Hermione smirked slightly, "We wouldn't want to disobey his direct command."

The wizard once again pulled her shirt off, unclasping her bra before leaning over her to lie her down on the couch. He devoured her neck and explored her breasts for several minutes, then sat up suddenly, glared at the empty fireplace, stood quickly, and offered her his hand, "To avoid further interruption."

Once they had moved to the bedroom, Snape kissed her lips again, but only briefly before saying, "One week. After tonight, I will not touch you until we're married. I won't make you return to sleeping on the floor, but I will not lay a hand on you."

Hermione sighed, "Fine. But you did say _after_ tonight, right?"

He gave a single nod, "I did."

"Then it's only six days, not a week."

Snape rolled his eyes then silenced her with a kiss before continuing to remove her skirt, then ridding himself of his cloak and other apparel. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the girl to stand in front of him, slowly tugged her panties down and kissed her stomach. Hermione took her teacher's face in her hands and lifted it to allow herself to urgently kiss his lips.

The girl moved closer to Snape before placing a knee on either side of him and climbing to straddle him. Scooting back farther onto the mattress, Snape took her with him by holding the small of her back, refusing to even pause the impassioned kiss. Hermione's hand found his solid arousal and teasingly stroked and squeezed it gently before lightly massaging the pouch beneath, gazing at his expression the entire time she explored; his eyes drifted closed and he pressed his lips together.

She learned in to slowly draw her tongue up the side of his neck and breathe into his ear, "Severus Snape, you are everything I never knew I wanted. I love you with all I have."

Snape opened his eyes, gave her a quick boyish smile, and insistently kissed her, taking his turn to touch her body. Hermione sighed as he stroked her, gasping quietly when he slid his fingers into her. When he pulled his hand away, she started to lift herself up slightly to position herself properly, but Snape held her hips in place and shook his head slightly before lying back onto the mattress and pulling her up to his face, where he tasted her body and licked her juice. She felt his fingers open her lips and his tongue slipped inside her cavern before his hand journeyed back to allow a digit to press into her bottom. Hermione held tightly to the headboard as the wizard nibbled on her nether regions and she was soon twisting in pleasure, throwing her head back, and unintentionally riding her professor's mouth.

The student tried to catch her breath as she moved down from his head, Snape sitting up, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny with evidence of her enjoyment. Hermione wiped some off his chin, blushing, "Sorry I tried to smother you."

Snape chuckled, "No you're not. Come here." He lifted her slightly, tugged her a bit closer, and let Hermione lower herself onto his taut pole.   
As she eased down and he entered her, the student sighed, realizing the different sensation this position provided. Snape once again laid back and drank in the sight of the girl gyrating, his body submerged in a warm sea of dense liquid, every inch of his body enveloped in perfect, comforting heat. Hermione rolled her hips rhythmically, smoothly, savoring the last time Snape would be inside her for a week.

 

 


	24. Fathers and Feathers

“Hermione, sweetheart, you’re only sixteen; are you sure you want to do this?” Jeanine Granger tucked a stray piece of her daughter’s hair behind her ear, “And, isn’t this man quite a bit older than you?”

The girl sighed heavily; her parents had arrived at the train station that afternoon, and, amidst gawking and gasping at even the least magical attributes of the castle, her mother had fussed over the impending marriage.  Her father, however, sighed in disapproving resignation, “If that’s the way this ‘Magic Government’ says it has’ta be, there’s not much good in fighting it.  You never go against the man unless you’re ready for a hell of a lotta trouble.  Let’s meet your husband, Herm.”

Hermione smiled brightly at her dad, “Thank you.  Now, I will warn you, he’s not the best at first impressions; I mean, I was petrified of him when I first met him...but, then, I was just twelve.”

John Granger stopped abruptly, “Wait.  You’ve known him since your first year here?”

“Yes, daddy; he’s a teacher - I told you that.” 

“Exactly how old is this man?”

 Hermione frowned pointedly at her parents, “He’s thirty-five.  Are you guys done?  I would like to get _some_ sleep tonight; Professor McGonagall showed you where you will be staying tonight, right?”

“Yes; she was a lovely woman,” Mrs. Granger said, “Although, she did say that it is the same place the wedding will be...I suppose we’ll have to clear out early tomorrow so that the room can be arranged for a ceremony. 

“Oh, no, mum, that room is called The Room of Requirement,” Hermione explained, “The Room is always equipped for a person’s needs.  You two will just have to leave for a second, so that it will change to suit Severus’s needs when he enters.  Speaking of Severus, wait right here for a second while I go get him.”  

She left her parents in the Great Hall and hurried down to the dungeons.  When she entered the chambers, Hermione smiled faintly; Snape was standing in front of a mirror, adjusting his cravat, unbuttoning and rebuttoning his cloak, grumbling to himself.

When he saw her, he growled quietly, “I thought you said five.”

“It is five.  What’s wrong?”

“My damn robes are disobeying.”

She stepped to him, “You’re being ridiculous; it’s fine.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, “Fine?  Fine isn’t good enough; I’m being presented to your parents.  You may find it difficult to believe, but I would like to be in their good graces.”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” she giggled.

The wizard glared at her, “I am not _nervous_ ; I simply would like to make a good first impression - I have been told they’re not my strong suit.”

Hermione nodded once, “Okay,” she unbuttoned his cloak and removed it, smoothed out his frock coat, then smiled at him, “There.  Very handsome.”  She kissed his cheek and they headed for the Great Hall.

 _______________________

 

“I’m just saying, John, _our_ government would never have a law like this!  I’m telling you, things like this make me wonder if we did the right thing when we let her come to this school.”

“Shush, Jeanie, she’s coming back,” Mr. Granger looked past his wife’s shoulder and out the open doors of the Great Hall to see Hermione at the end of the corridor heading toward the dining area; she was, from what he could see, holding hands with the man at her side, who was rather tall and dressed in dark clothing.

John patted Jeanine’s shoulder, “Let’s at least give the fellow a chance, dear.”

As Hermione and Snape got closer, Jeanine eyed his black apparel and dark hair, “He certainly wears a lot of black.”

“Jean…” Mr. Granger used a warning tone, then stood as his daughter and her fiancée approached, offering his hand to Snape, “Hello, there.  I would say Hermione’s told us so much about you, but that wouldn’t be true.”

Snape shook Hermione’s father’s hand, “Pleased to meet you both; I’m Severus Snape.”

After the four sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, Jeanine Granger started in, “Our daughter tells us that you’re nearly twenty years older than she is; why are you marrying someone who could be your own child?”

“Mum!” Hermione gasped .

“What?  It’s a valid question.”

Snape lowered his gaze to the table briefly before clearing his throat, “It _is_ a valid question, Mrs. Granger.  I assure you both that my motives are nothing nefarious.  I’m sure Hermione told you about this law -”

The Grangers nodded.

“As it happened, my name appeared on your daughter’s list of _eligible wizards_ , and, after meeting the others on the list, she determined that I was the least of ten evils, and asked me to agree to marry her; I told her no.”

Mr. Granger frowned, “Then how -”

“You see, I did not want her to marry me because I was the best of a bad situation; I wanted her to actually _want_ to marry me.  So, I refused; each time she asked, I told her no.  Unfortunately, I waited a bit too long and -”

Hermione lightly kicked him under the table.

“And that’s the reason for this impromptu wedding,” Snape ended, “The law has a time-constant, and Monday is actually the final day to comply.”

_______________________

 

Once her parents had gotten settled in in the Room of Requirement, Hermione and Snape headed to their chambers.

Having kept his word about not touching her for the past five days, Snape changed into pajamas and watched the girl do the same before she joined him in bed.

Hermione curled up next to his warm body, laying her head on his bare chest, “Severus,” she asked quietly, “What you told my parents about why you told me no all those times...was that true?”

“Yes and no,” the professor replied.

“What do you mean?”

“The first time you asked me to marry you, you actually _did_ want me to marry you - so you wouldn’t have to marry someone else on that list.  The same is true for the following times you asked.  You _did_ want to marry me... but only as a way of avoiding marrying someone you knew nothing about.  I wanted you to want to marry me because you didn’t want to _not_ marry me.  Do you understand?”

“Hmm...sort of.”

“I hardly had a desire to be in a marriage where I cared more for the other person than they did for me,” Snape elaborated, “Why do people get married, Hermione?”

“Because the law forces them to,” she chided.

“Other than that,” Snape rolled his eyes.

“Because they’re in love.”

The wizard gave a nod, “I wanted that to be your reason." 

Hermione sighed and snuggled into his chest.  

Snape thought she had fallen asleep, since she had been still for so long, so he jumped slightly when he felt her place a light kiss on his chest.

She did it a second time, then a third, lowering the placement each time she pressed her lips to his skin.  Hermione smirked wickedly up at him, her hand moving to the front of his pants, “You said you wouldn’t touch me; you didn’t say anything about _me_ not touching _you_.”

“Smartass,” Snape shook his head.

Hermione pulled her hand away from his stiffening member, “Oh, I’m sorry.  I suppose I _should_ just go to sleep.” 

Snape raised an eyebrow at her, “I never thought you were so cruel.”

She laughed quietly and returned her hand to him, “No, I’m incredibly nice.”

Hermione kissed the skin just above his waistband then ran her tongue beneath the elastic, dragging it the entire length of the top of his pants.

“Why must you torture me?”

She smiled and tugged his pants down just enough to release his new erect rod and the pouch beneath, “Because I can.”

The girl ran her tongue up his length and placed a kiss as light as breath on the tip before doing this again.  She fondled his sack, kissing here, as well.  Snape ran his fingers through her hair, fixing his dark eyes on her ministrations.  Hermione held his pole lightly and ran her lips over his head, occasionally letting him barely slip into her mouth.   The girl slowly took his head in and sucked him softly before inching her mouth down gradually, until she could go no further, then she sucked and pulled her mouth away, causing agonizing pleasures in the man.  Hermione licked his length, swirling her tongue, and suckled his head.  Snape laid his head back, his fingers still in her hair, and closed his eyes.

She pleasured him for a long while, learning what the man preferred by listening to his grunts, groans, and growls.  Hermione felt his pouch tighten and Snape urgently tapped her shoulder.

“Her - stop...I’m...you don’t - no...I’m -” 

Hermione smiled around his member, pulled away from him only long enough to utter, “I know.  Go ahead.”

She took him back into her mouth, sucking slightly as she stroked him.   Hermione felt his member become slightly stiffer, then pulsate as his salty lust erupted from him.  The girl continued stroking him, slowing as she felt his flow ebbing.  

As she sat up onto her knees, Snape pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes, breathing heavily, “Jesus...do you need to…?” he grabbed a sock from the other side of the bed and held it out toward her.

“No, I’m fine,” Hermione said calmly. 

“You…” the wizard asked, “all of it?”

She nodded once, “Well, yeah.  Now go to sleep.”

 

_______________________

 

When Snape woke, Hermione was no longer in the bed, but a piece of parchment rested on her pillow.  Rolling over groggily, the wizard read the letter:

 

_Severus -_  

_We’re not meant to see each other until the ceremony, so I suppose I’ll just meet you in the Room of Requirement at 4:30, like we planned._

_The next time we see one another, we’ll be getting married._

 

_Love you,_  

_Hermione_

  


He smiled to himself, checked the time, and, seeing that it was ten in the morning, decided to sleep for another hour or so.   

That was when an owl furiously tapped on his window.

Grumbling, the professor opened the window, allowed a school owl to flutter inside, and opened the envelope, intending to shoo the bird immediately away and return to bed.

 

_Severus -_

 

Snape would have thought the ink was the shade of Pepto Bismol if he’d ever had use for the medicine.

 

_I’m sorry to inform you that your marriage to Hermione Jean Granger later this afternoon will not be permitted to continue.  After hours of discussion with the Wizenagamot, they have concluded that it would be very unjust to permit Miss Granger to select her husband, even after the allotted time has passed.  Furthermore, as she has failed to comply with the mandate set forth by the Ministry, she must choose to either wed the wizard we have selected or be sent to Azkaban until such time she decides to comply._

 

_Please note that I did everything I could._

__\- Dolores Umbridge_ _

 

  


Snape snarled, made a sudden leap for the owl, which furiously flapped its wings in an attempt to escape the wizard’s firm grasp.   A bright flash of green filled the room and Snape stood, breathing heavily, the bird lying on the floor at his feet.


	25. Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SOO SORRY that I haven’t updated this story! I post my works to Wattpad, as well, and usually post a new chapter here first, then post it to Wattpad, but the AO3 site wasn’t working for me, so I uploaded it to Wattpad and COMPLETELY FORGOT to post it here, as well! I’m SO SORRY.
> 
> If you’re still interested, here’s the final chapter of this story!

"Where is she?" Snape rushed to the Room of Requirement looking for Hermione.

"Hermione? I - I don't know; we haven't seen her yet," Mrs. Granger answered, standing in the Seventh Floor corridor, "Has that woman not found her yet, either?"

"What woman?" the man said more sharply than he intended.

Mr. Granger frowned, "She didn't say her name - just that you asked her to help you find Hermione."

Snarling slightly, Snape asked, "What. did she. look. like?"

The professor had a sickening feeling that he knew the answer, but he had to be sure.

"She was short - "

" - very short - " Jeanine interjected, "and...portly. I don't want to sound mean, but she was quite unattractive; she looked...well, she looked - "

" - like a toad," John finished.

His wife swatted his shoulder, "John!"

Snape couldn't help but feel his mouth twitch toward a smirk, but he cleared his throat and shook his head, "Let me guess; she wore a lot of pink?"

"Oh, yes, a dreadful amount," Jeanine replied. Seeing Snape's expression, she knew this wasn't good, so she wrung her hands, "She went that way," Mrs. Granger gestured toward the other end of the hall.

Giving a swift businesslike nod to the couple, Snape darted the direction Jeanine indicated. He rushed around the corner, flew up several steps, raced down another short hall, and burst into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Seeing Umbridge standing by the window, seemingly having just received an owl, Snape strode quickly to the woman, grabbed her poofy neckline, and slammed her against the wall, snarling, "What have you done with her?"

The woman giggled condescendingly, "Oh, Severus, put away your wand. Cornelius will be here in a moment; you wouldn't want the Minister of Magic to see you holding a Ministry Official at wand-point, would you?"

Snape growled, violently released the woman, and stepped back, "Where is my wife?"

Umbridge seemed preoccupied with watching a beetle crawl on her desk and didn't respond. The wizard glanced at the bug, "Surely you're not ignoring my question because that pest is so enchanting. Where. is. my. wife?"

"Do you mean the Granger girl? She's not your wife yet, and nor will she ever be. Not to worry, though, I've explained the situation to her and she has chosen to reside in Azkaban rather than marry Lucius Malfoy. Cornelius will be arriving very shortly and I'm sure he will tell you - "

"Dolores Umbridge has been relinquished of her position at the Ministry," Fudge entered the classroom.

"I...excuse me?" Umbridge gasped.

"Yes, Dolores, you are, from this point on, no longer employed with the Ministry of Magic; you deliberately ignored my direct instructions not to pursue this matter. Severus and I have already discussed the issue and have come to an arrangement, haven't we, Severus?"

Snape stepped to Umbridge's desk, placed his hand over the beetle that was scurrying back and forth along the wood, and raised an eyebrow, "I don't recall an official agreement, Cornelius; are you speaking of you permitting a time extension for Miss Granger in exchange for my remaining silent as to the several hundred galleons you accepted from Lucius Malfoy to ensure he would be the one to wed Miss Granger?"

Umbridge gave the Minister a sideways glance.

Once the two government officials left, Umbridge having told Snape Hermione was in her office, Snape bent down toward the desk, "I could have squashed you. I did not. Your source was anonymous."

The beetle flitted its wings and flew out the open window.

"We're not supposed to see one another," Snape said after tapping on the door to Umbridge's office, "I took care of it."

"Four-thirty still?" Hermione asked.

Snape sighed, relieved that her voice showed no signs of anguish, "Yes."

_______________________

_Why am I nervous?_   Snape questioned as he walked in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement a third time.

The wizard furrowed his brow when he saw that the door that appeared was not the typical grey and dark stone, but a silvery-gold marble with simple designs raised slightly on the panel; what had he done?

Snape entered, stunned at what met his eyes: the room was larger than he'd ever known it to be, divided perfectly in half by a three-quarters height wall, pale yellow flowering ivy the top quarter; the side he had entered looked as though he had stepped out into a sparsely wooded area, trees scattered here and there over thin grass, lightly strewn with orange, yellow, and brown leaves. Roughly thirty mahogany chairs were separated by a thick line of leaves, a blue ribbon tied on the back of each.

At the front (he supposed it was the front), a boxed-arch, also mahogany, stood precisely where the leaf-walkway ended. The same ivy that formed the top of the divider that split the room wove through the cross-slats of the arch, the yellow flowers haphazardly but evenly dispersed.

As curious as he was about the other side of the room, Snape had no time to investigate, for Dumbledore and McGonagall entered the room. Gazing around at the magical location, the old man smiled, "Ah, Severus, I knew you were a romantic."

Snape rolled his eyes, "This isn't what I - "

"Never mind that," McGonagall answered, "Miss Granger instructed me to do this." The woman flicked her wand toward Snape, causing the slivers that could be seen of his white shirt beneath his frock coat to turn the same shade of blue as the ribbons on the backs of the mahogany chairs.

"Wha - Why on Earth?"

"Shush," McGonagall said, "It's 4:15. Go."

Snape turned to head toward the arch.

"Oh, and Severus," McGonagall's voice caused the wizard to turn back to look at her.

"Congratulations," the woman smiled.

Giving her a nod, Snape took his place to stand beneath the archway, his coal eyes flitting to each person as they entered the room and sat.

"I have some Calming Drought if you need it," Dumbledore's voice made Snape jump; he hadn't noticed the old man come to stand at his side.

"I don't," Snape muttered, "Go away."

Dumbledore shook his head in exasperation just as the room grew dim and Snape noticed for the first time that there were little lights strewn throughout the ivy somehow.

Hermione entered meekly, walking toward the start of the path of leaves, and when she turned to head to him, Snape felt his heart simultaneously race and stop; her hair was pulled back, sweeping off her face to the side, piled gracefully on the back of her head, a few loose pieces falling in tendrils around her face, her dress very light pink, loosely form-fitting, a sheer halter-style neckline. As she approached him, Snape suddenly remembered all of the harsh, mean, and sometimes downright cruel things he'd said or done to her in past years; he didn't understand why she would choose him; he couldn't comprehend the amount of kindness and forgiveness she would have to possess in order to be marrying him.

Once she reached the archway and turned to face him, Snape caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers and whispered, "I don't deserve you." Then he lifted Hermione's chin to slowly kiss her.

The girl placed her hands on his wrists and moved his gentle grasp away, "We're not at that part yet," she laughed.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke to the room, "Thank you all for coming to this wondrous event. Today, my good friend, Severus Snape, is marrying Hermione Granger, who is, funnily enough, his student. I've been informed that, in lieu of the traditional vows, the pair will be saying their own. Miss Granger?"

Hermione smiled, "Severus, I know you think - and everyone here - and probably everyone who hears about us getting married - will think that I'm marrying you because of the law that says I have to marry a Pureblood or Half-Blood, but they're wrong. And you're wrong. I'm not marrying you because of a law; I'm marrying you because I love you. I am marrying you because I want to marry you. I am marrying you because I don't want to go another day where you're not my husband. I love you."

After she had lightly kissed his cheek, Snape looked at her, "At the beginning of the year, when Albus told us both about the arrangement, I was furious to say the least. However, had that not happened, I would not be here to make the best decision of my life. All those months ago, in the Headmaster's office, I sat beside you, an angry, bitter man with little hope of happiness. And yet, Hermione, I stand before you now, and all of the happiness possible is right before me. In you."

The wizard offered her his hand, his palm out in front of Hermione; she rested her hand against his, palm to palm, fingers laced and they looked at Dumbledore, who took out his wand and placed the tip on their knuckles and cleared his throat, "Severus Snape, will you agree to bind yourself, legally and magically, to Hermione Granger?"

"Yes," Snape returned his gaze to the girl as a silver stream of thin magic slid from the wand to loop around their wrists.

"Hermione Granger, will you agree to bind yourself, legally and magically to Severus Snape?"

"Yes," a second thread of magic wound around Hermione's and Snape's wrists.

"Severus, will you do any duties required of a husband? Will you provide strength and protection for this girl?"

"Yes," a third silvery strand emerged from Dumbledore's wand, this time snaking around their hands.

"Hermione, will you do any duties required of a wife? Will you provide care and comfort for this man?"

"Yes," the fourth thread wound around their hands.

"Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, will you leave from this ceremony, from this room, and from this day, not as a wizard and a witch, nor as a man and a woman, or husband and wife, but as one?"

Snape and Hermione held each other's gaze and spoke simultaneously, "I will."

The fifth, thicker rope of shimmering silver magic wrapped several times around their intertwined hands; Dumbledore smiled, "You are now husband and wife. Kiss and make this marriage bound."

Snape gave a tiny smile then brought his lips to Hermione's; as soon as their mouths connected, the silvery ropes burst into thousands of tiny blue, pink, and yellow confetti pieces, which floated up to surround the pair. Snape grasped Hermione's face in both his hands and kissed her with slow passion.

"I love you, Severus Snape."

"And I love you, Hermione Gra - Hermione Snape."

The girl beamed, looking around the room, "This is beautiful; this is what you really 'asked' the Room for?"

Snape shrugged, "I suppose; I really just 'asked' for something you'd like."

_______________________

The other half of the room was arranged for a reception, complete with the most delicious of the Hogwarts foods, little round tables and chairs for guests, a sizable dance floor, music being emitted magically into the room, and a humongous wedding cake that was at least twelve layers.

Sitting back down after dancing with her new husband, Hermione sipped a glass of punch, looking thoughtfully at the tablecloth.

Snape's brow furrowed, "Are you unhappy?"

"What? Oh, no! I was just thinking...because of this law and the time-restrictions, there are a lot of things we didn't have a chance to discuss that most people talk about before getting married."

"Oh?" Snape traced his thumb over the skin of her back, "Such as?"

"Well, for one, where do you want to live? I mean, I know your job means you stay here most of the year, but summers?"

The man shrugged, "I assumed we'd spend those at my home in Cokeworth."

Hermione nodded, "That's wonderful; I swear I'm not thinking clearly."

"That was one thing; you said there were a lot of things."

The girl sighed, "Well, more impending, are we having a honeymoon? If so, where?"

"Of course we are," Snape rolled his eyes, "Greece; you've said several times you'd like to go."

Grinning, Hermione nearly leapt out of her chair, "Really? Oh, you're wonderful!"

"Hermione, lots of things generally is more than two."

The girl took great care in folding her napkin several times.

"Love?"

The girl coughed, cleared her throat, and didn't lift her eyes from her folded napkin, "The topic of kids. Do you want children?"

The wizard tightened his mouth, "I never thought I did. However, I must admit, knowing their mother would make up for my failings, I would, eventually, like one or two."

Hermione looked at him, "What if eventually was sooner than you expected?"

Snape did leap out of his chair, "You're...?"

The girl nodded once, "I only found out this afternoon. I - I would have told you, but that's something you tell face-to-face, and, well, we didn't see each other... "

"Shush," the wizard placed his index finger on her lips to silence her, then softly kissed the girl, lightly placing his hand on her stomach, "The only problem I see is that now you'll be in competition with this little bean for my affections."

Fin


End file.
